


Signed, Sealed, Delivered: A Moment in Time

by audreyslove



Series: Signed Sealed Delivered [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-10 00:29:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 50,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13493028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audreyslove/pseuds/audreyslove
Summary: a series of prompts and one shots in the Signed, Sealed Delivered verse.





	1. Chapter 1

They don't celebrate Valentine's Day. 

Not usually, anyway.

Regina had never been much for any holiday that wasn't Christmas. Robin had slowly chipped away with that — first with Thanksgiving, then with Halloween, followed by the Fourth of July. Easter had been a hard sell, until a two year old Roland toddled on chubby legs around Mary Margaret's backyard, searching for eggs hidden by the Easter Bunny. She hadn't been able to resist his smile, and giggles, and absolute delight in the magic of the holiday. So he had won Easter.

But Valentine's Day comes with its own particular hard memories, and he realizes how it hits her and all her insecurities hard. As a child, her school would exchange Valentine's Day cards and gifts and candy. For a few years, her classmates would fill her desk and cubby with treats and valentines. But Regina could only offer them a card in exchange, if she had the time to make something homemade out of construction paper in time..

Because Cora did not allow candy in the house, and certainly didn't allow Regina to bring in such things for other children. _There's nothing more ironic than a holiday that celebrates love filled with treats that only serve to wreck your figure and make you entirely unlovable_. That Valentine's Day mantra was repeated often in the Mills household, grilled into her from a young age. Any candy Regina was gifted with on that day was sniffed out by Cora in some way or form, and all the delightful heart-shaped candies and chocolates covered in bright pink and red wrappers were dumped into the trash.

It didn't take long until her classmates stopped giving Regina a gift altogether. Now, when she thinks back on it, she knows it wasn't cruelty that had them skipping her. It's just that they had probably known she could never reciprocate, and possible knew she could never truly enjoy the gifts she was given (she was too afraid to even eat candy at school, for fear Cora would smell the chocolate on her breath). So perhaps the children skipped over her for her own good, not realizing that being left out just reminded her of how isolated, how lonely her life was.

There had been one year, in sixth grade, when a sweet little boy named Jeff gave her a homemade card. There were scraps of lace pasted together messily in some heart shaped form with the words "Will you be my Valentine, Regina?"

She had loved it had gleefully accepted his offer. They were attached at the hip for about a week, until her mother found the Valentine's Day card, hidden under her bed. She ripped it up in front of her before forbidding her to see the boy again.

 _"He's a vile boy, Regina."_ Cora had told her, _"his parents are in and out of jail. I believe he's in foster care now. He's no one you should be talking to."_

She ignored the holiday altogether after that, took a sick day from school if possible, could not look at homemade cards or valentine's day candies without feeling sick to her stomach, and her idiot mother had added fuel to the fire.

As she entered her teenage years, she continued to let her mother down on the holiday with her particular _lack_ of suitors.

_"When I was fifteen, I had seven boys ask me to the sweetheart dance," Cora had bemoaned. "And here you are, fifteen and no boys take an interest in you. I do wonder if you're a bit too bold and manish in your ways, men don't like that, you know._

And maybe she was right, except….her senior year in high school Daniel found her, and he was every bit as enchanted with her so-called manish and bold ways.

But Daniel's father had died on Valentine's Day, so while she dated him, they fueled each other's hatred of the holiday, resolute to never celebrate something so manufactured and idiotic.

After they broke up, she carried the hatred with her.

She's shared all of this with Robin, she's shared so much more lately. They started therapy immediately after New Years and it's amazing how much he still had to learn from her, and how much she still had to learn from him. 

So he gets it. Understands why she hates the holiday.

But the thing is, Robin is a romantic. And the other thing is, they haven't even been back together for two months yet, and they are still very much in a honeymoon phase of sorts, and he has this persistent need to constantly dote on her. And hell, Valentine's Day is all about doting, isn't it?

And he really just _wants_ to give her a good Valentine's Day. He can't give her everything she deserves in this world, but he can at least give her good memories to replace bad ones.

So when he approaches the subject he's unsurprised when she shoots it down immediately.

"Please," he begs, wrapping arms loosely around her waist as he nuzzles into her hair. It's a bit unfair of him, using these soft touches that she loves and still craves constantly after their separation, but he's never been much for playing fair. 

"We've never celebrated Valentine's Day before," Regina points out, "why ruin a good thing? It's working for us so far."

"We didn't celebrate Valentine's Day last year, and it was miserable," Robin reminds. 

He's got her there, if the look on her face is any indication.

But then she groans, an exasperated little thing. "It's such a sappy holiday, and the restaurants jack the price fix menus up to ridiculous levels, and..."

"And there will be pink champagne, no doubt, and pathetic little rose petals everywhere, and every woman will be in a red dress….including you, I hope…" He's never smiled as broadly as he has now, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. She shakes her head and lifts it up to look at him like this, shit-eating grin and all, and she releases a smile before she can try to hide it, tucking her chin back down into her neck, but still easing into his hand, which has moved to stroke her cheek.

"I want to do this." He says just above a whisper, rubbing little circles around her cheek with his thumb, "We were apart for a year and I just….I want to give you everything. I want something good to come out of that bad year. But it doesn't have to be _this._ I won't push you, Regina."

She hums gratefully and lays her head against his shoulder. "Let me think on it a bit."

When she picks Roland up from daycare on Friday, he's giggling excitedly about a Valentine's Day project for next week, and she feels her resolve crumble.

When Robin comes home, he finds his son and wife poured over a kitchen table filled with lace doilies, glitter, construction paper, glue sticks, markers and safety scissors... 

He chuckles a bit, drawing her attention towards him. She meets his eyes and tries hard to keep her own laughter at bay, rolling her eyes in defeat.

"Daddy! We're making Valentine's Day cards for all my friends! Do you see? Momma showed me how to cut a perfect heart, you fold the paper like this, and then you…"

Roland is still giving him the Valentine's Day tutorial, but Robin can't help but look up to meet Regina's eyes. 

She nods her head slowly, shrugging her shoulders. "Fine," she whispers. "You win."

"Do I?" He asks, sliding next to her, grabbing some cotton balls to add to a particular card Roland is making. This activity should keep him occupied all weekend what with the attention and time he gives to each card.

"Mmhm," Regina says, bumping her hips against his. "You may take me out to a cliche Valentine's evening full of manufactured romance and watered-down champagne. Assuming you can even find a place that takes reservations this late of notice."

"I might have made a reservation earlier," he smiles, "you know, just in case."

 

.::.

 

He had been lucky enough to secure a babysitter for Valentine's Day - two in fact. Elsa and Anna aren't celebrating the holiday, and decided to spend it together and do some sisterly bonding. Time with an excited toddler seemed perfect. Plus that ride-sharing service just added a delivery option in the city, so Robin and Regina's home comes with the offer of takeout from some of the best restaurants in the city.

They show up with an overnight bag that has Robin a bit curious and asks what exactly they had planned for the night. 

"Just in case you need it," Anna says quickly, pointing to the overnight bags. "I mean not that you'd _need_ it, because you can just come home to have sex, but—" she flushes and cringes, as Robin tries to bite back a smile, "I mean just in case you _want_ to spend time alone without Roland getting you up at the crack of dawn, or waking up at the slightest noise — _oh god!_ Not that you'd be making a lot of noise, that's not how I picture you two — oh no, no I don't picture you two at all, I mean, I _picture_ you two, just not doing _that_ is what I'm saying…you know what? Just forget I said anything" Anna hides her face in her hands and starts to walk away.

"Anna?" Robin calls out, before she leaves the room.

"Yeah?" she asks, in that meek little voice that she seems to revert to when her natural chattiness lands her into these situations.

"Thank you very much for watching Roland tonight. He's been looking forward to it all weekend. And thanks for the other offer too. But I don't think we'll be needing it. 

It's not that he hasn't thought of getting a hotel. Because Anna, poor Anna, _is_ right. Well, partially. Roland gets up early, but that doesn't bother him as much. He sleeps like the dead, too, and that should mean they don't have to worry about waking him up with every little noise... but… well, they _can_ be loud, and Regina is always acutely aware of the fact Roland is down the hall, and tends to muffle all the beautiful moans and curses that can spill so freely from her when they are alone.

But he only just got back home a few weeks ago, and he's not ready to spend a night in a bed that's not theirs. He loves coming home to that house everyday, seeing his family whole, and then retiring every evening to _their_ bed, where he belongs again.

Dr. Hopper has actually recommended they take a vacation of all things, just the two of them, to talk and really reconnect. He understands what they are feeling more than anyone - how they are incredibly happy but still very aware of the misery they suffered last year, how scared both of them are to reach that place again. So they've talked about it, but Robin isn't really ready to leave home yet. Even if it's with Regina, it just doesn't feel right. And that's understandable, Dr. Hopper says, so they are taking that slowly.

Anna's too mortified to say much of anything to Robin, so it's Else who speaks up next. "Just a heads up — in case you get home too late, you may find us sleeping in your guest room." 

It's not really a guest room, it's a tiny, windowless study with a couch that turns into a sofa bed, but it's an amazing sofa bed with a memory foam mattress, and that's something at least. 

Robin thanks them again and grabs a strategically hidden bouquet of purple dahlias and calla lilies and heads upstairs.

Regina's given him permission to do valentine's day completely cliche, but the thing of it is he wants her to _like_ this holiday, not just tolerate it, not to enjoy it in some sort of ironic sense, but to _really_ like it. So he's going to do it her way. And she is not roses and hallmark cards.

He knocks on the bedroom door, which confuses Regina. "Yes?" she calls out, "I'll be right down, I'm just…" 

She opens the door while one hand still fiddles with a pearl earring.

"God you look good," she mutters, as her eyes travel down his body. He's wearing a suit she likes, the midnight blue one with a crisp white shirt, and he anticipated this reaction, but somehow he can't find it himself to say a god damned thing.

Because _fucking christ,_ she's wearing _the_ dress. The dress he's imagined her in countless times since she wore it this past July, when he couldn't have her. 

His mouth goes dry and he swallows hard as he stares at the slit in her dress, where a zipper hangs, ready to exposure more flesh should he only pull it in the right direction. 

Maybe dinner was a bad idea. Maybe they don't need to leave this room for awhile.

"Cat got your tongue?" She asks through a sinful smile, teeth catching at her bottom lip while she continues to smirk at him. 

He reaches for her and she backs up just a bit, but her body language is easy to read, she _wants_ this, she's playing with him.

"Robin…" she warns, "we don't have time for this…" she steps further into their bedroom as he walks through it, slamming the door behind him and dropping the bouquet of flowers on the floor in front of it. "You'll ruin my makeup…" he threads fingers through her hair, and she moans, tilting her head against his touch adding a half hearted "and my hair, this took some work…"

And that's the last thing she says before she meets his lips halfway for a heady kiss. His hands explore over her body as he continues to walk her backwards until her head hits the wall behind her. 

He turns his attention to her neck, dropping open mouthed kisses there as a hand wanders to the zipper of her dress, tugging lightly, as if asking if she will grant him access.

Regina swallows hard, looking conflicted for a moment before she gives a little nod, granting him permission to pull that zipper. But he's barely so much as moved it when he hears Anna's voice.

"Guys? Where did you say the playdoh was?"

He feels her shiver as he chuckles against the kiss dampened skin of her neck, and she joins him in sexually frustrated laughter.

Regina shouts out directions on where to find the playdoh as Robin makes his way to the ensuite to wipe off burgundy shade of lipstick now covering his face. And she reapplies her own makeup, smoothes her tousled hair, and rights her rucked up dress.

He hands her her fallen bouquet before they step out of the bedroom.

She makes over them, and tells him he did good, that this might be one of the most beautiful bouquets she's ever gotten. "No roses, though" she adds, "isn't that bad luck, to part with such a Valentine's tradition? 

"We make our own traditions," he murmurs into her ear, "this is _our_ day."

 

.::.

 

When the cab pulls up to the Iron Gate, she knows Robin has planned this day for awhile. The place had probably filled up with reservations by New Year's day.

She raises an eyebrow and tilts his head, and he can only shrug sheepishly. 

"You knew I was a sap when you met me," he snarks.

"Mm, I did," she gives, threading her fingers through his as they enter the restaurant.

She can't blame him for wanting to give her a good Valentine's Day. It's sweet and thoughtful and so very _Robin._ And so far, he had nailed it, from the flowers, to that suit he's wearing, right down to the way he had almost convinced her to have a quick, half-dressed fuck with Elsa and Anna downstairs. Something that, as it so happens, is still playing through her mind.

But they've got hours before they can satisfy their craving for _that,_ so she will just have to get her libido in check and enjoy some of the best food in the city.

Of course, he looks good enough to eat (smells just as good) and hey, that look isn't helping, the one where he appears like he is thinking of devouring her whole as well.

She still hates Valentine's Day and all it's cliches, but god, how she loves her husband.

 

.::.

 

Dinner is going….perfectly. He's loved evenings out like this, where they can just talk and flirt - he loves and appreciates these moments even more since they got back together. They are still very much behaving like newlyweds, where every little move the other makes is somehow mesmerizing and electric. Just holding hands, just brushing fingertips across palms, is exciting and arousing, and they are really in a state, aren't they?

They are supposed to talk about things other than Roland during these moments. At least, that's what Dr. Hopper has said. It's part in response to Regina's (completely irrational) fear that Robin may just have come back for Roland's sake. It's very _Regina_ to think that, she never sees how magnificent she truly is, how wonderful she is separate from being an amazing mother. And he's intent on showing her.

So they talk about politics, and movies, and work between flirtatious glances and innocent touches that feel anything but innocent.

"I'm thinking...after we finish dinner, we can maybe head for a nightcap?"

She's had a cocktail before dinner, and plenty of wine since, so despite how good another cocktail sounds, she cannot help but joke "Trying to get me drunk, Mr. Locksley?"

Her tongue slides along her bottom lip, and he's drawn to the movement. Her foot is stroking up and down his leg under the table, and it feels so mind-numbingly erotic he can hardly breathe.

"You shouldn't call me that in public," he rasps, "at least you shouldn't say it like that…"

"Whatever do you mean, _Mr. Locksley…"_

"You're going to get us kicked out of a very nice restaurant," Robin warns, his voice strained, "because of you keep that up I am going to have to fuck you in the bathroom until you scream. 

She looks just as affected as he is by the thought of that. 

"Maybe we should just go home," she says in an anxious whisper, "I need you." 

He doesn't know where he finds the resolve, but he insists, "Dessert first."

She pouts in that beautiful way of hers, and he leans over and whispers "It's just as well, I won't be able to get up from this table anytime soon."

 

.::.

 

He doesn't know why he even picks up the phone when it rings. Regina is in the bathroom, not in front of him where the thought of entertaining anything that's not his beautiful wife is dulled, so he hits the answer button while on autopilot.

"What is it, Killian?"

"Hey, mate, just making sure you dropped your key off and got the rest of your things?

Shit. He still hadn't completely cleared out the spare room he had used while he and Regina had separated. And Killian had found himself a new roommate, due to move in tomorrow. 

"Sorry man, I forgot. I'll stop by tomorrow morning.” 

"Well, the thing of it is…" Killian groans, "I told him where the key is, and the man's moving in before work tomorrow. 5 AM. And I'm out for the night, I won't be there to let him in. I told him where I told _you_ to put the key…"

"God damn it," Robin groans, "can you tell him to wait until 7 am?"

"He rented a moving truck, mate."

Well fuck. He hangs up the phone with a grimace. He's going to have to get up at 4AM tomorrow morning.

"Who was that?" Regina asks, sliding into the seat in front of him.

Robin holds up the offending key on his keychain. "Killian. I forgot to drop off the key, and the new roommate is moving in tomorrow morning. And of course, Killian's out of town, sooo, I'll have an early morning tomorrow."

"Don't be ridiculous, his place is practically down the street," she argues, and okay, she's right, it may be just about half a mile to Killian's, but he won't make her walk that in heels, and frankly, he'd rather not add any time between now and getting that dress off her body.

"Killian's out for the night, right?" Regina asks musing, "We can have a nightcap there."

Bless this woman and her good ideas.

 

.::.

 

They behave more like college students in love, stopping on street corners to kiss, pulling each other into darkened corners to make out in the cold night air. Robin can't stop grabbing a handful of her ass whenever they are waiting at a stoplight, can't help himself from slamming her against the sides of office buildings, and when they hit a residential street, he's pulling her off the sidewalk, behind shrubbery her against an old, expensive brownstone.

"You must be cold," he murmurs as he kisses her neck, as his hands skim up her thighs, "but thank you for all this bare leg."

His hands roam up the slit in her skirt, and she doesn't even care that there are people walking by. Right now, they are in a darkened corner, and it's Valentine's Day, what could be more cliche (and expected) than a little bit of PDA? 

As his hand skims the underside of satin panties she knows are dampened with her arousal, she realizes this is quickly headed to the point of no return. 

"Robin…" Her voice comes out like something between a moan and a plea.

His fingers are still teasing her lightly as he pulls her into a kiss, and she starts to rock into his hand, seeking more friction, more pleasure.

"I need to come." It's a desperate whine, but fuck it, she doesn't care right now. She needs him. 

"Do you want me to make you come now, darling?" Robin asks, his touches growing more deliberate and firm and ungodly wonderful.

It's tempting. But she doesn't think she can come like this, with street noise nearby and the fact that they are semi-visible from the sidewalk. 

"Not _here._ " she says, "but… Killian won't be back until tomorrow morning, right?"

It should be laughable, planning a romp at their friend's apartment, but nothing is laughable now, when they need each other so badly they can hardly behave rationally (contemplating a quick fuck behind some sparse shrubbery on a crowded DC street is hardly the smartest idea they've ever come up with), so he just nods, and takes her arm, leading her back to the sidewalk.

"We're close," he says, referring to the short distance from Killian's.

But she never can resist a good opportunity for a sexual innuendo. "Yes," she replies. "I am."

He lets out the faintest hint of a laugh, and then curses when he looks at her.

"Christ, don't keep reminding me or we'll never make it. I felt it, you felt so good…"

"Keep walking Robin."

He groans in protest, but does not stop.

 

.::.

 

He slams the door to Killian's place with a bit more force than necessary, but, hell, circumstances warrant a bit of force, and he knows she likes that. It's been too long since they have made love like _this_ , anything other than the quiet muffled moans and soft adjustments in a bed they are careful not to squeak too loud.

Now she's sighing and groaning in earnest, without the need to bite down every sound. He could draw this out, but they've been teasing each other all night, and frankly he needs the relief every bit as much as she does. He pulls the zipper over her body, slowly, and then slides his hand up that slit in her dress, until he's cupping her sex, feeling her warm, soaked panties as she rocks into his palm.

They groan in unison at the contact, and he's sent into overdrive, wants her so bad he has a mind to just forego foreplay for now and rip those panties off and fuck her right here, up against the wall in Killian's apartment.

But they have precious little alone time, and he shouldn't waste the gift of having her in a childless home, so he draws it out a bit longer, lets her grind into his hand as he nips and sucks at her neck, pausing to claim her lips occasionally.

"Touch me," she begs, as she makes quick work of untying his tie and divests him of his jacket.

"I am," he rasps back into her ear before nibbling her earlobe in that way that always makes her shiver. He's touching her, his hands are all over her, but he knows what she wants, and he's not quite ready to give it up. 

"Robin…." she groans, and her hands fly down to her waist, as she tries to pull off the scrap of satin between her legs. 

He stills one of her hands with his free one. "I need to take my time with you tonight. While I have you all to myself."

She seems to get the idea, and nods, closing her eyes and feeling as he continues to torture her.

He's still able to touch her in a way that has her panting and gasping, and clawing at him, has her rocking into his touch, wetting his hand through the fabric as he rubs his thumb right where she needs him.

"I want you," she moans, "please, just, can I…just have…"

She sounds desperate, and beautiful, and looks like a fucking angel, and he doesn't want her to come without his skin on hers, so he relents. "What do you want?" he asks, pulling at the second zipper to take the dress completely off her body. "Tell me, anything you want."

She's in some stunning lingerie and heels now, the black contrasts so well with her creamy skin, even though it's a tad flushed at this point. He loves her like this. Loves her every way. 

She grabs his hand and moves it where she needs him, moving her panties aside, not even bothering to take them off. The second his fingers touch her she throws her head back and moans, and yes, they're both a bit riled tonight, thank god, because he can hardly contain himself. 

She's soaked, and warm, and ready, and his resolve crumbles completely as he feels himself sinking to his knees.

He parts her legs and pulls down her panties quickly, and then his tongue is on her, lapping up the evidence of how much she wants him, and it thrills him in a way he cannot quite put into words.

"Fuck," she moans, thrusting her hips against his mouth, "god, I — oh! — have wanted this— mm!- all night."

"Me too," he mutters, before swiping his tongue between her folds and darting inside her in quick little laps. "Thought about tasting you all night.”

"God….Robin, you feel...oh, god, please don't stop, I need you, need…"

He has missed hearing her like this, wild and free, without worrying about waking Roland, or embarrassing themselves with the neighbors they share walls with. Killian's neighbors are used to these sounds, after all, so it doesn't matter that she's panting and groaning and spilling out curses while he fucks her with his tongue.

 Her hand flies to his head, and she's a bit aggressive, pulling his hair to anchor him where she wants him, keeping him close to her, and it's heavenly, so unbearably sexy he thinks that if he didn't actively resist it, he could come like this, come between her legs, with her growing wetter, her juices dripping down his chin, as he eats at her. 

"Fuck, Robin, god….don't stop!"

 She starts to bend over, and for a second he thinks she's lost her balance and is about to fall, so he uses a hand to hold her up by the waist as he continues to eat her. 

"I need you fingers, Robin, please, your fingers, so close, god, I want you…"

He doesn't deny her that, not when he knows she's seconds from coming apart, damn near close to collapsing, the anticipation making her needs more acute, so he gives her that, slipping two fingers inside her, angling into her like she needs, and starts to pump while his tongue draws patterns over her clit.

She's already fluttering, those little tremors that mean she barely has time before she comes, which is good, because fuck, the second she comes he's going to fuck her, and frankly as good as he's trying to be, he has been wanting to be inside her since the moment he saw her in that dress.

She presses both hands on top of his head and leans over him, knees buckling, shouting now, "I'm gonna — I'm gonna, please don't don't don't stop I'm fuck, Robin!"

She's a walking aphrodisiac, but especially here, between her legs, where her taste and smell and touch is overwhelmingly sexy, she never fails to turn him on to the point of pain, and this time is no exception.

"Fucking Christ, darling," he moans, as he continues to savor the remnants of her orgasm, "You've no idea how good you taste."

"Mm, I...have heard, ahh, heard that." she's still riding it out, her eyes closed and a serene little smile on her face. He loves that look, that post-coital bliss she gets, and now he envies it, because he is achingly hard and needs her.

She squeaks when his tongue flicks against a now oversensitive clit, and tugs at shoulders, urging him up. He goes willingly, lifting himself up from the floor and wrapping arms around her. He's straining in his slacks, pressing up against her to feel _something_ , for fuck's sake he needs to be touched too, but he also has a swelling in his chest and a need to shower her in affection. she chases his lips, leads him into a passionate, deep kiss that does little to calm the pulsing need in his belly.

 

.::.

 

She still feels her heart pounding in her chest, little tremors of pleasure still waving over her body, her clit still so sensitive, even as his leg just brushes against her as he kisses her. She came _hard,_ and after hours of teasing and anticipation, the release had been a fucking godsend. But she wants him again, right now. She knows Robin is feeling the same, based on the way he was looking at her the whole night. It's been like this since they got back together, like all those pent up emotions — the trauma of almost losing each other, the overwhelming love and renewed appreciation they have for one another had all transformed into insatiable desire. They still could not get enough of each other.

She fiddles with buttons and buckles as their lips meet hurriedly, frantic little whimpers from both of them spilling into the kiss as she undresses him. Once the last piece of clothing is off, she wraps a hand around his erection, and just the contact has him hissing sharply and thrusting into her palm.

She loves him this way, all riled up and unable to control himself around her. Eventually things will die down a bit, return to "normal". The passion will not burn quite so white hot. But for now it's there, and she plans on relishing every ounce of it.

"I want you," she moans into his mouth between wet, tongue-filled kisses.

"I _need_ you," he pants, his hands fisting at her ass, pushing her towards him.

She spins in his arms, so she is facing the wall she had just been pinned against. She thrusts her ass out and braces arms against the solid brick.

"This way," she orders in a breathy sigh, "right now."

 She can't see him from this angle, so she misses the way her words cause his head to fall back and his eyes shut tight. Still, she hears his grateful moan and his _Thank fucking god._

 

.::.

 

He should go slow. He should absolutely not waste one of their first opportunities to have loud, uninterrupted sex by popping off within minutes of being inside her, but four hours of foreplay has him unable to think of anything else besides the sweet relief of coming inside her. 

She's still in those god damned heels, elbows bent against the wall, back arched and ass out for him, and he doesn't think he's ever seen a sight so fucking gorgeous. He swallows thickly and grips her hip while he guides himself inside her with his free hand.

Fuck, she's soaking wet and so, so warm and tight around him. He had wanted to go slowly, but as soon as he gets a taste of her, it's absolutely addicting, absolutely irresistible, and he's thrusts in deep and hard.

"Fuckkk!" he bites hard at his lip and sucks in a breath, some desperate attempt to gain control before he lets his mind wand too far on how perfect she feels wrapped around him, how it's like she's made just for him. He gives himself a second, shutting his eyes when she wiggles her perfect ass, trying to get him to move, trying to ignore her beautiful sex-laced voice as she asks him to _Fuck me hard_ (she knows how close he is, she knows she's playing a dangerous game now).

He waits until he feels himself centered, until he initial strong current of pleasure ripples through him and dies down into a more tolerable hum, and then he lets out his breath in labored pants, and starts thrusting inside her.

She lets out a little squeak, a throaty, satisfied _Thank god,_ and arches into each thrust.

 _"_ God you look...so good like this," he moans, reaching to cup and squeeze her ass firmly (fuck, his wife has an amazing ass, how the fuck did he resist her for as long as he did?)

She shifts a bit on stilettoed feet, adjusting to him, getting the angle just right. And he can feel when it just clicks into place, by the way her muscles just contract around him, the way she is now crying out with each thrust, how she's so wet she's practically dripping down his body. 

He feels those sparks igniting and swirling deep in his belly, and he knows he has to change things, change the speed, or the angle, because soon…

He slips out of her, still pulsing with desire, and tries to replace himself with hands and fingers, but she squirms and whines in protest.

"Robin, I want your cock. Now, please, I need it, _God!_ Please.." She's moaning and writhing, rocking into his palm as he fucks her with two fingers from behind, and he knows it's not enough, and god damn it, he can't stop looking at her, how amazing she looks from this angle, the way she's slamming into his hand, her perfectly round ass, and... 

"I won't last," he assures, "just let me... "

"No!" she cries as she bucks even wilder, "please, Robin, just, just fuck me like you want to, I've wanted you to fuck me hard all night, I can't wait, I…"

She sounds like a dream, desperate and pent up, and wanting him to finish just as badly as he does, and bless her, because he needs this so badly, and she must want this for him too, and thank god for that.

He replaces his fingers with his cock, willpower be damned, he needs her, and fuck, maybe they have another round in them, maybe it is okay that he doesn't have it in him to finish her again. 

He slams into her hard, and she lets out a little _Umpf!_ And a _Yes!_ And then he takes her advice, fucking her like he wants to, hard and fast, selfishly chasing his orgasm.

"Fuck, Robin, like that, please…"

He reaches around to grab at her tits, plucking and stroking a hard nipple, and well, he should have done this a bit sooner, because the sound she makes is fucking beautiful, sends him into overdrive, and it's too late now, he just…

"Mmmmm, Regina, I— I can't— love you— need to- I need to—"

"Let go, I've wanted you all day. Come inside me." She says in that sultry, sexy tone, and he can't resist.

He takes another look at her, at her tiny waist and her beautiful ass, the profile of her face as she turns to look at him out of the corner of her eye, and she's breathtakingly gorgeous. He lets his mind go blank as he fucks her harder, and everything tenses up, pressure building inside him until he cannot hold off anymore, and lets himself explode into her. Hours of foreplay contribute to the intensity of the orgasm, and his body buzzes and tingles as he comes hard into her.

It's as this pleasure is leaving that he realizes that Regina went without, and a sense of guilt washes over him. 

"Sorry," he says, as deep, fast thrusts become more slow and shallow.

"Don't be, that was amazing," she sighs, twisting her neck in attempt to make eye contact with him. "You felt incredible. Just what I needed."

He smiles and shakes his head, because that's not exactly true, is it? But she looks so genuinely happy in this moment, he won't argue. As the last waves of pleasure leaves him, he pulls out from her. They let out twin sighs at the loss of being joined.

And then he spins her around so she's facing him, kisses her, and lifts her up into his arms.

She lets out a surprised little cry but goes willingly, arms looping around his neck and legs wrapping around his waist.

"Where are you taking me?" she asks, voice colored with amusement.

"Guest room," he replies. He wants to lie with her, be able to stroke and touch her for just a bit, and hell, there's a possibility that…

He enters the guest room and chuckles. Robin's sheets are still on the bed, comforter and pillows as well. He deposits Regina on the bed, watching as her naked body tumbles and bounces on the mattress, watches her remove her shoes and toss them on the floor behind her. And then he slides next to her, kissing her forehead.

The old room brings back memories, and not good ones. He slept alone in this room for over a year. The first nights he spent away from her on this bed was spent angry and frustrated with her, and that feeling faded into worry, fear, sadness. He spent many nights feeling hopeless and alone, doing his damndest to convince himself he still had time to fix his marriage. And now he has her, in this room, and there's nothing sweeter.

"What are you thinking about?" she asks through a wide smile as her fingers stroke up his arm.

"Nothing," he shrugs, "just feeling lucky." 

She dives in to give him a swift peck on the lips, arms squeezing his bicep as she nods and says "Me, too."

She glances at the bed and then smoothes a hand over the sheets. "Are these...ours?”

Robin chuckles. "Yes. I don't believe Killian went through the trouble of changing sheets for the new tenant."

Regina laughs and shrugs. "We can take them when we leave. Anything else that's yours here?

"Well... it looks like Killian threw some of my stuff in a box for me," he says, pointing to the box in the far end of the room.

Robin had cleared most of the stuff out of the apartment, hell, he cleared most of it out on Christmas Day. But it was a bit frantic, and you always leave things behind. There's a couple of his ties (one in particular he loved and was really looking for), some toiletries he forgot to remove from the bathroom, and other odds and ends.

"That's something at least," Regina says with a smile. "Though I'm not complaining about the fact he forgot about the sheets. They have come in handy.

"You know," Robin muses, "this is the only bed I've slept in where I haven't fucked you since we started dating."

Her brow furrows at that as if she's trying to work something out, because it's quite a statement. In over ten years, he's managed to consecrate every bed he's slept in.

"Business trips," she concludes as finding a loophole. "That trip to San Jose, and then there was Austin, and…"

"Oh, I _had you_ on those trips," he reminds, wiggling his brow. His mind wanders back to their skype dates, and hers must too, the way her cheeks flush every so subtly, and she smiles softly.

"That doesn't count," she argues playfully. And well, if they are going to have a debate, he'd love to have it on something like how many different places they've fucked over the years.

"It absolutely counts. I might have not been able to feel you, but I could hear you and see you. The sex was amazing, if a little unconventional."

She hums in response, cupping his chin and kisses him, her legs wrapping around his waist. "I liked the San Jose trip," she murmurs, and he nods in response. 

They kiss for awhile, and touches grow bolder, and he feels himself getting ready for a second round, and from the way Regina is panting, the way her body is rocking into his, he knows she's ready, too.

She rips her mouth from his and he chases it at first, like a boy who has had his toy taken away. Instead she shakes her head, a little smile on her face. Her hands still wander over his body. She still wants him, but she's playing at something. "You did have me on this bed, though," she insists.

"No I didn't," he replies as his eyes wander her body. His hands wander over her breasts now. He didn't pay nearly enough attention to them. His thumb swipes over her nipple, and the way she arches and sucks in a breath is music to his ears. "But I think I am about to."

He cups her ass and urges her against where he's already hard for her, but she pushes back. "Are you saying you never thought about me while you were _on this bed?"_ she asks, her expression turned into mock indignation. She knows otherwise of course, he's confessed as much. Nearly every time he got off over their year apart, he thought of Regina.

"You weren't with me in those moments. You weren't aware that I was—"

"Oh, I was aware. Fourth of July, I was aware." She reaches between them to stroke him now, and he stiffens even further in her hand, unable to fight the moan that comes out of his mouth. God, she's an angel.

"Mmm But — _oh!_ — it's different — _mmm!_ —" He dips down to kiss at her neck, paying special attention to the spot that makes her shiver.

"Mmm, I know it's different," she muses, and she gets that look in her eye, that devilish twinkle that usually means she's up to something. "But, still, you've thought about fucking me on this bed."

"Oh, most definitely." He says as he moves a hand between her legs, swiping fingers through her folds. It's just a touch, just a tease, but by the way she moves against his fingers, he knows she's more worked up than she's giving away.

"How?" She asks in a breathy sigh. He's puzzled by the question, and it must show on his face, because she adds, "what type of sex would we have?"

Oh. That. 

They've talked about this before, about how he'd fantasize about fucking her in the dress she just happened to wear today, or about how he thought about fucking her right in the middle of a crowded park on Fourth of July (it's his fantasy, it can be unrealistic if he wants). But he hasn't really revealed _the type_ of sex they'd have. 

"You'd be… aggressive," he murmurs between kisses. He goes shy for a second, thinking of his fantasies where Regina would be so commanding, and then finds his nerve again. "You really wanted it. And... you were... bossy."

He trails a line of sucking kisses down her neck to her chest, and he can feel her chuckle, the little vibrations reverberating from her body, an echo of laughter behind him.

"You — mm, do that again — like me being bossy?" she asks, arching when he takes a nippple in his mouth, teeth scraping lightly against it.

"God yes," he admits, "one of the things I love about you." he's kissed his way to her navel now, tongue swirling with each sucking pass of his mouth. "Though I don't tend to obey orders well."

And then she is urging him to move off of her and standing up. 

"Regina, what…"

"Shhh!" she says with a smile. Then her expression goes a bit more serious when she adds. "Don't move."

She looks around the room, making her way to the box of Robin's stuff in the corner of the room. She picks out two of his ties and comes back to bed, urging him onto his back and straddling him. 

"Arms over your head," she orders. He chuckles, and complies, Hands reaching past the posts of the headboard.

Regina bends over his body, ties still in hand. Her tits are right by his mouth now, hovering just over him. He can't resist lifting his head to suck on a nipple as she works over him. He feels a silk tie loop around his right wrist and then she's knotting it against one of the bedposts. It's a tight knot, the silk digs into the flesh of his arm, but it doesn't hurt. It's a bit thrilling, honestly. She does the same to his other wrist, tying just as tightly.

"There," she says, getting off the bed, "now you _have_ to obey."

He swallows thickly and nods.

"I'm going to clean up," she whispers, and only then he realizes he's made a mess between her legs, remnants of his orgasm still dripping from her. And then she adds a cheeky, "Don't go anywhere."

He laughs, and tests his restraints. The action shakes the bedpost but the knots don't give. He's stuck.

She comes back from the bathroom a few minutes later, a bottle of something that looks like oil in her hand. "Look what I found," she says, tapping the bottle smugly.

"Killian's," Robin says, though it's clear she doesn't care about the ownership of the item.

"Hmmm... Mine now," Regina responds, smiling devilishly, once again straddling his waist. She lets the oil drip out of the bottle and onto his chest. It feels nice, wet and slick.

And then she lets the oil drop on _her_ chest, tiny dots of it falling over the curves of her breasts, sliding over nipples, and she looks so damn good like this, he can't take it. He forgets he's tied up, and he tries to move, tries to touch her. She smiles at his struggle, shaking her head lightly before rubbing the oil into her breasts, down her arms and stomach. The liquid makes her glisten, makes her look absolutely delectable, and it's a crime he can't touch her, can't throw her down on the bed and fuck her.

"I want you," he growls. 

"Oh, I know," she responds, reaching behind her to grab his erection and stroke it with slippery hands.

"Fuck, Regina, please, I want to touch you so badly."

"Let _me_ do the touching," she flirts. She shifts to lay on top of him then, her oiled body rubbing against his, and she kisses him deeply, slick skin massaging against his, hand scratching his scalp as she kisses him.

God, he wants to fuck her again, make her scream and moan this time, feel her come on him.

She makes her way between his legs, gripping his cock and stroking it before giving the tip a firm lick. "Do you want my mouth?"

"Please," he begs, thrusting into her, searching for her lips again.

She takes him in her mouth, and fucking Christ, it's amazing. Warm and wet. Her tongue slides and massages as she sucks. It's slower than she usually goes, more drawn out, and each teasing pass of her lips is driving him crazy.

"Please, darling, faster, I—" He's thrashing a bit now, the restraints making him more desperate.

But instead she releases him from her mouth with a pop. "I give the orders here," she purs.

"I'll give you want you want, but…."

And she's crawling up his body, now, until she's by his head. And then she lifts a delicate thigh over him until she's straddling his face... "Make me come first." And then she lowers herself onto his lips and rocks into him. 

He can't use his hands, and that's quite a handicap when it comes to _this_ , but there's something thrilling about being tied down, having only his mouth to use on her.

He swipes his tongue through her folds, swirls around her clit, and sucks gently. She's not terribly close, not yet, but she's getting there, if the sounds coming out of her mouth are any indication. He darts his tongue inside her and fucks her as best he can. She is rocking back and forth over him hard, those breathy little sighs turning into headier moans as he sucks and licks at her sex hungrily. His actions are rewarded as her wetness coats his tongue and mouth, dripping down his throat. She tastes sweet, with that little salty tang that is so _Regina_ , he loves this, tasting her while he hears those sexy little sounds coming out of her mouth, and god, he wishes he could touch her, use his fingers on her, but this is good, this is working for her, it's —

"Don't stop," she moans and the desperate little sound that comes out of her as she rocks harder into him spurs him on. His jaw is cramping a bit, tongue overworked, but he'll be damned if he denies her this, so he eats at her with everything he has.

"God that's good, so good…" she whines as his tongue ruts hard against her clit. And then he he manages to wrap his lips around her and sucks, tongue flicking as he does.

He feels her thighs tremble around him, feels her sex practically vibrate against his lips as she moans and spasms, and fuck, he's a lucky man to have this, not only to have the most beautiful woman in the world come in his mouth, but to have her love him and care for him it's… overwhelming. More than he deserves.

She rides out the last of her orgasm and then lies down next to him, one of those bright, elusive smiles on her face that the world gets to see so rarely. He smiles back, but the action makes him wince a bit as the overworked muscles of his face cry out. He stretches his jaw, causing her to laugh, and she wipes a hand over her face with grateful affection.

"I love you," he rasps, "so, so much."

"I love you, too," she sighs, and then she shimmies down, back between his legs. "I'm going to suck you off," she says in that sultry voice, "but you can't move. Lie still, or I'll stop."

He swallows at that, and nods. She wraps her lips around his cock and pumps him slowly in and out of her mouth, and it feels amazing. He feels her working him up lazily, tongue swirling down and up his shaft as she sucks him hard. She's slow again, and she knows what that does to him. It's a tease, and not being able to move, to meet each pass of her lips with a thrust of his hips, it's torture.

On a particular long stroke of her tongue he loses his self control and rocks into her mouth. He curses an apology, but it's too late. She releases him from her mouth and smiles at him sweetly.

"Such a rule breaker," she sighs. 

And then she's taking out the oil again and rubbing it all over her body. Arms, legs, torso, ass, chest. She's a slippery mess, looks unbelievably hot like this.

He itches to feel her against him, and once again he curses being restrained by these god damned ties.

Maybe this wasn't a good idea after all. 

"Like what you see?" she asks, rubbing a slippery hand over her shoulder.

"Let me touch you," he begs, shaking his arms. "Enough with this, I want to…"

 "No, no," she replies, "I like you tied up."

She lays back down over him, her skin dripping oil. She rubs her breasts down his chest, starting from just under his neck to his groin, a slick path drawn on his chest in their wake. Her breasts are so soft, her nipples are hard, and the oil is warm…

"God, please Regina, let me…"

She takes a well oiled hand and jerks him slowly at first, and then more firmly, with more purpose.

He doesn't want to finish this way, absolutely does not, but her hand is twisting and tugging so perfectly, and every time he can bear to open his eyes he sees her all wet and glistening in the dull light of the single lamp in this room, and he feels himself reaching that peak, precariously hanging over the edge.

"St-Stop! Please, please, I beg you, stop!" He groans in relief when her hands leave his cock, despite the fact that his cock immediately craves her touch again.

He looks up at her, and realizes she's nearly as affected by this as he is. Her face is flushed, her eyes deep pools of lust.

"I want you," she says, just above a whisper.

He nods vigorously. " _God_ yes, I want to touch you, I—"

She shakes her head, and straddles him cowgirl style. She's slick between her thighs, a combination of the oil and her own wetness sliding against him deliciously.

 

.::.

 

Her husband is sexy. 

She knows that, it's a fact of life, from the moment she first met him. But she's never seen him like _this_ before, not this desperate, not thrashing underneath her, begging, and she sort of likes having this control over him. 

" _Fuck,_  darling, please…"

She takes him in her hand and angles him into her slowly. Curses spill from his lips as she lowers herself on to him. It feels wonderful like this, and it's a bit of torture, going this slow, but it's worth it, seeing how riled he is.

"You look so good, darling, so good, I want…"

She leans over him and kisses him deeply, oily hands wandering over his body. And then she parts from him. The need to get off herself is rising, and hell, she's in control, and her refractory period won't prohibit her from having another orgasm, so she rides him faster.

His hips buck and he groans _Just like that, darling_ and _Fuck, Regina, yes!_ And every sound spurs her on further, drives her closer.

He would usually be touching her now, but he's tied and can't, so she touches herself, one hand rubbing against her clit, the other playing with a nipple, and that seems to send him into overdrive. His arms thrash, and he curses, sounding on the edge of annoyed.

"Just let me go!" he argues, "please, let me go, I'll... I'll do whatever you want, I just—" His pleas drive her forward, and her body starts to tremble and tingle, her belly tightening as she pulses around him.

"Mate? Is everything okay — OH GOD!"

"SHIT!" Robin says, well, he has the view of the door, but she knows who is there, and she is so close, so close, she _really_ doesn't want to stop, but the idea of Killian seeing her bare, oiled up ass and possibly the profile of her tits, well… it's enough to have her sliding off or Robin, to the side that's furthest from the door, covering herself up with two strategically placed hands.

"Regina, Robin — what the fuck?!" Killian asks, turning away from them, but still not leaving, "I could hear you down the hall, I thought something terrible had happened."

"I thought you were out for the night," is all Robin can say. Regina chuckles, and tosses a pillow over his groin, since he's incapable of covering himself. 

"I _was_ out for the night but we had a little misunderstanding, and fuck, what does it matter? This is my home. You two can do this in your own house." He's still facing away from them, eyes focused on the dresser by the door. "Shit, mate, is that my massage oil? You used _all_ my massage oil? What the fuck?"

"We'll buy you a brand new bottle," Regina mutters, "now can you please leave us?"

"Yeah... I mean... it's only my own damn apartment, how dare I walk into the place I fucking live…" he mutters. "Good god, I did not need to know you are into the BDSM shit, I just—"

His voice is cut off when he shuts the door behind him, and that's when Regina lets out the laughter she'd been trying so hard to hold in.

"Not funny," Robin says, trying his damnest to be serious. "Not funny at all."

"Killian seeing me naked and lubed up is definitely no laughing matter," she says through snickers.

"I'm tied to the bed," Robin reminds her, and at that she laughs even more. He joins in, despite clearly trying to refuse to see the humor in this. "He probably thinks I have some crazy fetish, and… please! This is serious!"

"You know what's even more serious than that?" She asks, as she starts to untie him.

"What?" 

"Well…." she releases one of his arms, and he immediately drops it down, rolling his shoulder a bit, his hand playing absently with her thigh. Whoops. She forgot that being in that position can be slightly uncomfortable. Still, he looks no worse for the wear. "I was pretty close before he interrupted us…" She works at the second tie, undoing the knots as quickly as she can. "And…" she releases his second arm. "I really, really, need you to finish me."

She expects him to laugh, but she's just released his arms, and he's wanted to touch her badly for a while. His arms reach up her body, and he smiles devilishly. 

"Good," he says, and flips her so she's laying on the bed. "Because I really, really want you, too." He lifts her leg over his shoulder and thrusts into her hard, taking the opportunity to touch her everywhere he previously could not.

It's not long before she's coming, hard and loud, around him, and he's spilling inside her again.

Ten minutes later they shuffle out of the bedroom, guest bath towels around their oiled up bodies. They walk past a completely traumatized Killian, who's turned the volume on the television far too loud

"Just going to borrow your shower," Robin explains, as they walk past him. 

"Fuck, I'll just leave for a few hours," Killian shouts exasperatingly, standing up, "I don't even want to know what sort of kinky shit you have planned to do in my shower."

Regina nearly drops her towel laughing.

Before Killian leaves he mutters, "And uh, I'm happy for you two I guess, assuming that wasn't some sort of power struggle I'll never understand... And Regina?" Regina peers back at him from the hallway.

"Yes?"

"Nice ass."

She should be humiliated, should be mortified to know that her husband's friend of many years has just seen her in the nude. But she's had three unbelievable orgasms, and there's still wine coursing through her veins, making her feel bold and flirty. So she just responds with "I know," and winks at Robin. She drops her towel then, walking the rest of the way to the bathroom in the nude, entirely unphased by the fact that Killian may, in fact, still have a view of her walking away. She _does_ have a nice ass, after all.

"Christ, we need to take a vacation. Just the two of us," Robin mutters as Killian slams the door shut.

"We do," she soothes, smiling at him. "Are you—"

"Ready? Yeah." He takes both her hands in his and kisses each palm sweetly. "I'm ready. I'm less scared of losing you. And besides," he adds, glancing back in the direction of the guest room. "There's many more beds out there in need of defiling."


	2. Chapter 2

She's tired of those worried looks, the hushed tones of concern asking _Are you sure you're alright?_

She's tired of Emma Swan looking at her like she sees right through her, offering to stay in and order takeout with her instead of going out for the night with the girls because she _knows she's going through a hard time right now._

Regina _is_ going through a hard time right now, of course. She misses her husband terribly, but what's even worse than the dull, and sometimes acute ache of missing him is seeing pity in everyone's eyes, and having to continually answer their incessant questions as to whether she's alright by telling them that she is _just fine_.

But if she continues to withdraw and avoid all nights out, no one will believe her, and the questions will never stop. If she can't move on, she should at least be able to play the part of a woman who has done so.

The idea of a bachelorette had been….seemingly perfect. A night of ogling beautiful people and drinking and spending time with girls, without any lovey-dovey couples reminding her of what she has lost. Plenty of distractions, with less opportunity for people to focus nervous glances in her direction.

But the thing about bachelorettes is, they are filled with conversations of _weddings_ and _marriages_ and all that stuff that she is really trying to avoid, and she didn't really think this through when she accepted the invitation. Excited talk of marriage reminds her of how lovesick she had been as a young, engaged woman, head over heels for her husband.

So she dulls the pain and annoyance with liquor. Lots of liquor.

It starts with the hotel suite downtown, with the several bottles of sparkling wine she sips between splitting the many phallic shaped food items and effervescent giggles of giddy young girls.

And to be honest,they just make the stripper Elsa has hired so much more tolerable, these drinks. When he starts to dance amongst the crowd of giggling girls, gyrating hips right in her eyeline, a hair's distance away from her forehead…. That's when the night stops being painful.

It's been awhile since she laughed, truly laughed, and she laughs now, throughout the night, exchanging glances with Emma as the stripper encourages them to lick whipped cream off his body. And suddenly things shift from being amusing to downright hilarious.

By the time this entertainer gives poor Ruby a lap dance, she's moved from bubblies to the hard alcohol (she can handle a night of vodka, she'll do it for the bride, afterall), and feeling more than a little buzz.

It's been a night of sexual innuendos, and Ruby is more than a little blitzed even as they ride in the limo to the first club. She's sitting nearly on her lap, giggling one moment, and then serious the next.

"What if the sex is boring after we get married?" she asks of no one in particular, amidst shouts and shrieks of laughter and a very precarious attempt to do a group shot of whiskey.

"It won't be," Regina assures as one of only two married women at the party. It's her duty, right? Emma nods her head vigorously (she's cute when she's drunk) and agrees.

"Really? It didn't slow down for you guys?"

And Emma snorts into her glass of rum as she tries to catch her breath. "We had the kid before the wedding, by the time the wedding came along things were picking back up. We have more sex while married, but that could just be us.

Two sets of eyes turn to her, asking silently for her input. And well, for some reason, that dull ache she always feels when she talks of Robin or thinks of Robin is blocked behind a wall of strong booze and penis shaped baked goods, and it doesn't hurt at all to remember their sex life. In detail.

"We never slowed down," she slurs, "except for those six months when Roland was a baby."

"God you two would do it everywhere," Emma groans, "and he's my _brother."_ She turns to Ruby, clearly not thinking this may dredge up painful memories, and adds, "we used to room together and the number of times you guys caused me to want to burn my eyes or shatter my eardrums…” 

"Robin has a strong sexual appetite," Regina agrees. Marian comes to mind for a second, but she beats the memory down with another mouthful of whiskey.

"Regina, he's my _brother!_ " Emma repeats. And for some reason, breaking Emma is fun for her. 

"After we got married I think it picked up more," she says to Ruby, enjoying the look Emma is giving her. "He used to pick the most random times to just take me into any abandoned room or bathroom and —"

" _Enough!"_ Emma shouts, muffling her ears, "Please stop, I beg you, please!"

Regina chuckles and then merely adds, "Your sex life will only die down if you let it, Ruby." 

And that had been fun, teasing Emma like that, but now there are memories of hot sex swirling in her mind, and that's not good, not in a time when there's no one to relieve the ache these memories created.

The first stop is a burlesque club, where female performers on stage strip down to elegant scraps of lace and satin, and dance in a way that is ungodly arousing, and she's surrounded by sexually charged women and men, and _fuck,_ this would be one of _those_ times. One of those times when she would text Robin and beg him to stay up and wait for her so he could fuck her the very instant she got home. All she had to do was send a text, anything like _I need you so bad,_ and he'd be telling her what he was going to do as soon as he got his hands on her.

Even when they were in separate cities, he'd skype with her if she needed it, telling her every dirty thing that was on his mind as they worked themselves together.

And god, she needs some of that tonight.

By a stroke of fate, she gets a text from him.

_By the way, Roland told me to wish Ruby a happy birthday before he went to bed. :) He doesn't know what a bachelorette is, apparently, and thinks you are at her birthday party. I didn't know how to approach that subject._

She giggles and responds _I don't think he's old enough to understand why women need a night of strippers and penis shaped cookies, lets leave it at Ruby's Birthday._

_Done. Sounds like you are having fun._

_It's a lot like Belle's bachelorette. We're at the same place, and I'm even wearing the same dress._  She hits send before she can think better of it. They are divorcing and she's bringing up a very particular evening, and this is poor form.

_Oh, Regina. That night (and the dress) were lots of fun for me, too. ;)_

It's just a black halter dress, but it's tiny and tight and he's fucked her in it often. And just like that, she can add fantasies of fucking her soon-to-be-ex husband in the middle of a raunchy club to the lustful thoughts that swirl her mind.

God, she cannot be this pent up, not when she has to go back and share a hotel room with three other women. 

They have bottle service, and a great view of the stage below, but as they begin to kill the drinks the girls grow antsy.

"DANCEFLOOR TIME!" Ashley screams, holding a stack of bachelorette cards. "Everyone take a card! You have to do what is on the card. If you want to opt out, you gotta buy Ruby a drink. Ruby, if _you_ don't do it, you have to chug your drink. Ok?"

She passes the cards out, and asks everyone to reveal their card.

Regina's says: "Find a guy in a white shirt and ask him to dance."

And well, fine.

On the way to the dance floor there's a man in a white shirt, hanging by the bar. He can't stop looking at her, his eyes wandering over her body. And….now's as good as time as any, right?

She sashays up to him, holding out her bachelorette card.

"I'm supposed to ask you to dance," she says in a sultry whisper. He looks good in a white shirt, his arms are strong and defined and toned, like Robin's. He's good looking, not as hot as Robin, but definitely someone she wouldn't kick out of bed.

"I'm Ned," he says, smiling at her, "and you are?"

"Regina," she smiles back, letting her eyes wander up and down his form because what is the harm in looking? "Come dance with me before I owe the bride a drink."

God, she misses being in someone's arms. They've been dancing for a little while, and it's nothing, really, but he's touching her in a way she loves, and his arm is wrapped around her as they dance, hovering over her ass as he stares down at her, eyes wandering to her breasts, and that's not helping how sexually frustrated she is.

She runs her hands down his arms and enjoys them, and then he has a hand on her leg and it's lifting up...up…

God it feels good.

"Okay?" he rasps into her ear as his hand goes further up her thigh, and a his other hand touches lightly over her ass. 

"Mhmm," she hums into his ear, and then he holds her tighter.

"Fuck you're sexy," he groans, "I've never been more thankful for this shirt,"

She chuckles at that, looking into his eyes for only a second before the fantasy running in her mind shatters.. In the lustful drunken haze he's not a dark haired stranger but someone more... familiar.

She presses herself against him, closer. She brushes against where he's hard for her, and fuck this is not helping her cool the burning want inside of her.

She should just get off. Should just tell Emma she's feeling ill and go home to her vibrator and work on herself all night. It would feel so good...and she could do whatever she wanted to ease the throbbing need inside her. Her body is begging for attention, and it's Robin's fault, that bastard, he never let her go much longer than a week without sex, and now it's been _months_ and her body is revolting against her, desperate for relief.

This Ned wedges his leg between hers, and suddenly she's straddling it as they dance, her sex just hovering over his leg as they dance to a particular slow, sexy r&b beat where people are doing little of anything besides grinding anyway. She shouldn't, should _not_ but she's been craving touch for so long, she needs it, so she lets herself sink down on top of his leg and _oh!_

She lets out an audible sigh on contact, can't help herself from rocking on his leg just the slightest bit (she's passing it off as dancing, it's not much, just enough to stoke the flames of her arousal).

"You're hot as shit," he mutters into her ear, and she hums a response. God it feels good to just have someone appreciate her and touch her and _want_ her, she hasn't had this in so long.

She grinds against him a little harder, and he lets out a sharp breath.

She had forgotten how good it feels to have warm palms skim over her ass and up her back. How good it is to feel one of those hands urging her on, encouraging her to rock against his leg more deliberately..

Robin would do this, and more. She grinds harder and thinks about Robin, how he couldn't resist her in this dress, how she'd dance with him and he'd try his best to touch her, to rile her up to where she was so desperate and needy she'd let him convince her to have a quick fuck in a bathroom, or once, god, that corner of the club she'd never go back to, but it felt so good, and…

She lets out a moan, her thighs clench around this stranger's leg as she thinks about how good it would be, if Robin were just here, and they wouldn't have to tell anyone, he would just show up in that shirt she likes and those jeans that make his ass look amazing. 

"Fuck sweetie you're killing me," he groans, but his voice is muffled and distant just peeking out beyond the lustful haze of her own fantasy.

— She wouldn't need to rub off on a leg to get off, not if Robin were there, because he'd touch her, he'd slip a hand under her dress, he's done it before, with this dress even, he'd rub her clit with his thumb while his fingers slid through her folds, circled her entrance, and pushed inside her.

She throws her head back before she can stop the movement, but she's getting close now , and these movements are like a reflex, she can't stop them if she even cared enough to try. Thankfully it appears her motion goes with the music, could be mistaken for dancing, and she's able to bite her lip before she lets out a pornographic moan, this man doesn't need to know how close she is, even if he suspects what she's doing _on_ him, she doesn't need him trying to get her to do anymore.

She does hear his breath quicken, and he draws his free hand over her neck and down her chest, tracing the plunging neckline as his fingers wander down her cleavage. His hand ghosts over her left breast before taking its place back at her side, gripping her firmly, and it's electric and thrilling and it would be even more so if it were Robin.

Robin would fuck her with his fingers, hard, over and over, right here, she wouldn't even have to ask him, he'd do that for her, hell, even now, with everything that had happened between them...

She thinks of him showing up, just now, telling her he just needs her, that he's been watching her dance and he needs to feel her, he'd tell her fuck everything else, screw Marian, screw the fact they are broken up, he just wants to feel her again, wants to be inside her. And she'd let him, god, she'd let him, she'd tell him to fuck her hard, just how she craves…

Her thighs clench even hard around this "Ned's" leg, and she feels them start to tremble, feels that loss of control she reaches when she's so close, so she braces herself, hooking arms around his neck as she shimmies hips that are now decidedly completely uncoordinated with the music, but _fuck_ that's good, now each passing drag across his thigh hits her clit just perfectly, just where she needs and—

"Ahh- _oh_!” 

She feels and arm wrap around her tighter, and she likes that, likes the contact. Her eyes are screwed shut now and she needs to come so badly, so close.

"Oh, are you..?"

He's asking her something, whispering it in hot whispered pants in her ear as his fingers stroke and pluck her hard nipples over the thin fabric of her dress and fuck it feels amazing. She isn't listening to what he is saying though, doesn't care, his voice is replaced by Robin's, telling her _Come for me darling_ and _just like that, I need to feel you,_ and he's telling her how good she feels, how wet she is…

"Oh R- _Mmmmffff.”._ As she finally lets go she swallows down his name, and other words she wants to say, words of damnation and love, and desire and passion, words that aren't for this man. She may have used his body but he's not the reason she's coming right now, that's all Robin.

But Ned lets her ride her orgasm out, moaning a bit himself as he watches her and runs supportive hands up and down her body. As she comes down from her high it strikes her that she should be awfully embarrassed, but the burning inside her, that sweet, painful throb is finally gone, and she feels like she's soaring, post-orgasm bliss mixing with the euphoria of a boozy buzz, so no, she does not feel embarrassed at all.

As the final trembles leave her body she looks at him with shining, bright eyes and a smile far too innocent for what she's just done.

"Let me take you home," he rasps. And no, she should be ready for that, but she's not.

"I can't…" She says to him, motioning over to the bar, where she last saw her friends. "I'm with the bride."

He chuckles, nodding, and then readjusts himself in his jeans, so his erection isn't as obvious.

"Thanks for the dance," he grins.

"Oh, no, thank you," she flirts, still feeling the delightful humming through her body. It makes her feel bold, sexy and wanted. God, she's missed this feeling. 

"Hey, before you go," he takes out his wallet, fumbling for something. and then she feels him place a thin business card in her hand. "If you change your mind and you want…" he shoots her a devilish look "to _dance_ some more, or anything, please call me."

"Maybe I will," she says, smiling as she makes her way back to Emma who, god bless her, doesn't say a thing about the time she has spent with a stranger, or the very erotic movements she was doing against him.

 

.::.

 

It's far too bright in the hotel room. It's only 7:00 AM, but the light pierces through her eyelids, heat of the sunbeam slapping her awake as the other women in the hotel continue to sleep.

Lucky bitches.

She wipes a hand over her eyes, rubbing them with a little moan before stretching in her bed and forcing herself to move to the mini fridge where she knows there is some electrolyte-infused drink to help with the obvious hangover.

She lost track of how much she had to drink last night. God, what happened? There was a male stripper in a cop outfit, then a burlesque club with beautiful performers, after that some sort of theme bar where the waitresses walk around in lingerie, Ruby had made out with one of them, she remembers that, but something else...

Thinking hurts. She rubs at her aching temples, and squints around, trying to find her clutch. She threw some excedrin in it, and god, it'll help, it'll do.

In her half-frantic search, a card falls out and into her lap. She finds the excedrin, tosses it in her mouth and chugs her chilled drink with a little whimper.

She buries her head in her hands, trying to stop the room from spinning, and she focuses on her lap, and the card on it. Where did this come from? She turns it over.

 

Edward Hyde

Research Assistant

Department of Bioethics, NIH

 

It puzzles her, for a second, until she remembers the bachelorette game with the dare cards, the man in the white shirt, and the panting, shaking orgasm that she thought was a dream about Robin but was actually something she had done on a random stranger's leg.

Shit.

She's mortified at her behavior, but fuck, it _did_ feel good, and thank god she had the good sense to not accept his invitation to leave the club and go home with him, that would not have been wise.

Though, it felt fine in that moment, getting off on him, and he was nothing but polite and respectful, and it's time to move on, it really is. She should call him, get back out there, try to find a way to have a healthy orgasm without turning it into an opportunity to relive a chapter in her life that is definitely closed.

She _should_ call him. He wasn't bad looking, he smelled...nice, he seemed to play along with the festivities for the night and let her leave without being pushy. Still, the idea of being with him seems awful for a reason she can't place (the idea of being with anyone who is _not_ Robin seems awful, right now). But she needs a reason to turn this man down that isn't "I'm not ready to move on from Robin", because that means she's broken, that means she's sad and pitiable. She's weak if she can't move on yet, it's been months, she should…

So she lets her mind replay the hazy memories she has of him, and his smile becomes more sinister, his motives seem off. She remembers how he asked to take her home, and oh, he probably does that often. He probably was luring her into a false sense of security (what man would be that at ease with a woman using his body as a vibrator?) No, there was definitely something off about him. So she won't call him. And it has nothing to do with Robin.

Nothing at all.

"He's probably a serial killer," she mutters to herself, before tossing the card in the trash. And then she closes the blinds and crawls back into bed, hiding her eyes from the pain of the sun, careful not to wake Emma as she snuggles and prays for a few more hours of precious sleep. 

She'll move on eventually. With someone else.


	3. Jealousy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for a prompt SSD: Robin is jealous (actually ended up filling at least one other prompt too).  
> And okay, you guys know that my fics are usually a bit raunchy but i'm letting you know that this is VERY raunchy, as in, the filthiest thing I've written to date.
> 
> Thanks SO MUCH to everyone for keeping me going on this fic and telling me not to delete all the porn and make this PG rated; somewhereapart, repellomuggletum15, the-alpha-incipiens, starscythe, brookeap3, you guys are the best.  
> Special thanks to bea for being my beta, and to Jen for great sex toy advice, lol. The toy featured in this fic is the womanizer and everyone should have it.

He hadn't been snooping. Truly.

He'd just been using her computer to check his email, just to make sure nothing pressing was happening in that full week between Christmas and New Year's. He's taken the whole week off after Christmas Eve, and despite it being a _verryyy_ last minute vacation, his employer had understood, assuring him it would a slow week, and it would be unlikely any clients would call with pressing needs. Besides, as his boss Carmella had conveyed, he needed another mini-honeymoon with his wife.

So he had just been reading over his emails, calming any anxiety about his impromptu holiday. And then the chat window had appeared out of nowhere.

_Hey, beautiful. Long time no chat! I texted you but I didn't hear back. Just checking— are we still meeting next week?_

His breath is still caught in his chest, heart still racing as he pours over the message for the fifth time..

He shouldn't click that chat — he really shouldn't. But he does anyway, because he's a weak, sad little man.

It takes him to Regina's profile.

He can't breathe. Good god on high, she's so bloody beautiful in the photos she picked. It's nothing sexy, just these very natural, candid shots of her — two of which he can remember taking _himself —_ and she just looks, well, perfect.

Roland is not pictured on her profile but she mentions him, and the fact she's a package deal and those who cannot love children need not contact her.

It seems this requirement has done nothing to take down the amount of suitors, however.

He should not be looking, but he's so hurt and scared, he can't help him himself. He goes to her inbox and checks recent messages. Of course her page is full of messages from men. Of _course_ it is.

He swallows down the bile rising up his throat as he reads messages from men to _his_ wife, _his,_ dammit.

It cuts deeply, and it's terrifying. He knows Regina is a catch, he's never lost sight of that fact.

But these men, some of them aren't really bad men (he shouldn't be looking, shouldn't be looking at this). They are good looking professionals. Doctors and engineers and architects, a vice president of a large tech firm... wealthy men. Powerful men.

Men who might be able to give her a better life than he can.

It's strange, though. She doesn't reply all that often. He can see a day or two where she responded to a couple of men, with something short, but there are no long conversations (he should not be looking at this, should not at all, the voice repeats in his head like a dull drum beat he's set on ignoring, apparently). She's _very_ selective. But there are a few men she's responded to, and this guy who recently messaged her appears to be one of only a handful that she's ever written back. Someone she talked to quite a bit (he sees the string of messages and resists reading it and pouring through every last word).

Robin snoops on this guy's profile (his name is Andrew, but the man doesn't deserve a name at all in his opinion).

This is a man who, he recalls, has Regina's _phone number,_ fuck, she trusted him _that_ much. He's a pediatrician who works in the city and lives in Mclean, Virginia. He's has dirty blonde hair and these bright blue eyes and has a six-year-old son of his own.

Robin hates him. _Hates_ him, despite the fact that on paper they seem like they would get along just fine. They both enjoy rugby, a good lager, and activities Robin has come to enjoy in the states like whitewater rafting, skydiving, and mountain climbing. And he loves his family, two brothers and a very loving mother and father who love their grandchildren.

He thinks of his wife going on long camping weekends, his child playing with this guy's child, and it's enough to send him into a mini-panic attack.

He almost lost everything.

_Everything._

Almost, but he didn't.

Right?

It's been four days since Christmas Eve, and Regina and Robin have… been a little preoccupied. Each day has been filled soaking up every activity they can milk out of Roland, and quite frankly they have fucked each other into exhaustion every night (not that he is complaining).

They haven't really talked too much about the future yet, besides the little talk on Christmas Eve where Regina made it clear she wants him to live with her. She made her choice, he knows she did. She's not leaving him. They are together.

But some deep rooted insecurity inside him has him wondering why the ivy-league, all-American doctor with a mansion in McLean and a beautiful family isn't a hell of a lot better than Robin. He won't be able to afford that, he can't give her first-class trips to Rio and Peru and Tokyo. He can't give her a picture perfect family right out of a Hallmark movie. His family is broken and messy and complicated and not what she deserves.

And it sounds silly but he worries maybe she didn't make the right choice.

He closes the browser and deletes the browser history, his mouth dry and his stomach flip flopping.

He should not have seen this. It's an invasion of her privacy, and shamefully pathetic that he even looked at all. He should just pretend he never saw it, right?

He shouldn't talk to her about it. He has no right to be upset or hurt. She did nothing wrong.

But frankly he promised her honesty and the thought of keeping this from her seems worse than confessing.

He's still trying to work out what to do when she comes into the den, oblivious to what has just happened.

"Hey, babe," she leans over to kiss his cheek. "Roland is out like a light."

He swallows thickly, tries to put what he's seen out of his head. "He had a busy morning," he replies, trying to keep his voice steady and nonchalant. But she can tell something is off right away, raising an eyebrow and looking rather concerned.

"What's wrong? Did something happen with work?"

"No, everything's fine at work," he says. He's still sitting at her little desk, laptop opened to his work email. He shouldn't tell her, it's just going to start a fight, she'll be so mad at him for this, and she has every right to be so, yet…

He takes a deep breath and turns to her, swiveling the little chair away from the laptop.

"I... uh, saw something I should not have," he says, motioning back to the screen.

She looks genuinely confused, searching her mind for what he could have seen.

"A message for you popped up, and I _know_ I shouldn't have, but... I looked, and…"

"What message?" she asks. She sits on his lap and motions at the computer, and okay, this is a good sign. She doesn't seem terribly upset.

He sighs and types in the address of her profile. He doesn't look at her face, so he misses the way she frowns at the sight of it.

She takes his hand off the laptop and replaces it with her own, and checks her inbox.

"Oh. Andrew."

He grimaces. He doesn't like hearing that man's name out of his wife's mouth.

"Yeah…" Robin says dumbly, not sure how to voice exactly what he's feeling.

She sighs and turns to him, looking a bit defensive as she reminds him, "Robin, we were broken up. And you fucked Marian. And at the time I thought you two were still dating and this is _none_ of your—" she starts to get off his lap as she speaks, but he is a weak man and the idea of her leaving him is awful, so he reaches out for her, urging her to sit back on his lap. She does.

"I know, I know, I'm not mad at you and you had every right to move on. I mean, you _have_ every right to... you still have that right." His voice sounds high and pitchy, and he hates it.

"What are you saying?" Her head tilts as she stares at him half-annoyed, half-curious.

"I... looked at his profile," Robin explains, holding his hand up as she stiffens and opens her mouth to protest, "I know, I have no right, but it happened so fast, and I just…" he shakes his head. "I have no excuse. But he's a good man, it seems, with a good family, and plenty of money, and…"

She furrows her brows. "Are you _jealous_ of Andrew?"

"Not just Andrew," he says before he can think better of it. "There are so many guys who want you—"

"You looked at other messages?"

"No, I just... I saw them and looked at the profiles of some—"

That's enough, it seems. She gets off his lap, putting her hand in her head as she walks away. He feels the loss of her immediately, and it leaves him cold and anxious. Shit, this is a mess. "You _read those,_ oh god…" She sounds less angry than he expected more... upset. The way her cheeks pink and flush he'd almost swear embarrassed is the emotion she feels, but that can't be it. She has nothing to be embarrassed about.

"I didn't _read_ them, I just…" He sighs. God, he's an ass. "I visited some of the profiles of those you wrote back to but I didn't read the conversations, I swear, and I'm not accusing you of anything, that's not what that is about."

"Then what _is_ this about?"

"I've always known that you could have anyone you wanted, never doubted it for a second, but seeing it, it's just…"

A shy smile spreads over her face. "Oh. I was quite popular on that site."

"Of course you were," he says emphatically. "You're a catch in every way. And those are men who... they can give you things I can't."

She sits down on the couch, that smile splitting wider across her face. "You mean like a summer home in Tuscany and a six-bedroom home in an exclusive neighborhood right outside of D.C.," she surmises.

He nods.

"When have I ever cared about that sort thing?"

Never. If she had cared, she would have married one of those men her mom kept trying to set her up with.

He knows this, he _should_ know this, but hearing her say it brings him more relief than he would care to admit.

"You still deserve it. And I want to be the best for you."

"You already are," she assures. She walks back towards him and takes a seat back on his lap. "You give me things no one else can."

She's too good to him. She knows he needs affection now and she gives it freely, nuzzling into his neck and cuddling him as if he were a child (he is, at this point). His fingers skim down her back.

"Like what?" He cannot help but ask, insecurity bleeding into the question.

"Do you want to _read_ the conversations?" she asks. "I feel like all jealousy you have will be gone if you read them. Though I'm dreadfully embarrassed of my flirting skills in text form." She cringes, and so does he, but for different reasons.

"I don't think reading you _flirting_ with other men is going to make me feel any better." He holds her tightly. "I don't want to think about how close I am to losing you."

"You aren't close to losing me. You were _never_ close to losing me," she assures. Her head is now laying on his shoulder, arms draped around his side, "I had a whole year without you, and nothing serious ever came out of that whole mess. I've never had any interest in anyone else, not truly."

"Why did you pick to go out with Andrew?" he asks softly.

She pulls back from his embrace just enough to look him in the eyes. She shakes her head and scratches her fingernails through his hair the way she knows he likes. "I had just agreed to spend Christmas dinner with you and your family…" she swoops in to kiss his neck, "and Marian was going to be there…" another kiss to the neck, "and I started thinking about how once you two finally came out as a couple, I wouldn't be invited to these holidays anymore, and Roland wouldn't want to spend a sad Christmas alone with his mom, so... I thought I needed to try, to at least try. You know?"

His heart breaks for her. "I'm so sorry you ever felt that way," he says. He lets the tears fill his eyes before blinking them away. "You are always welcome with my family whether we are together or not, you know. I'd never... I wouldn't…"

"I know that now, babe." She presses a kiss to his brow while her fingers skate up and down his neck. "But I didn't before. And Andrew… is respectful, and easy to talk to, and attractive, and seemed like he could keep Roland's interest," she laughs. "But we just set up a date, I set up dates with a few men on that site. I usually ended up cancelling. Even if we had gone through with the divorce, I probably would have cancelled that date anyway."

"Why cancel?" he asks, "if he was so fun and respectful and _attractive,"_ he sounds like a petulant child, can't help it, but he's long since forgone trying to be mature about this.

"Because I didn't feel the same way I felt about _you,_ when you and I first met, and I didn't want something that would just remind me of what I was missing."

"You barely knew him," he reminds her, "who's to say—"

She chuckles and kisses his neck. "We spoke, and that was enough to know I didn't feel the same, and I wouldn't."

"What's different?"

"From the moment we first met, I felt a connection with you. We can talk for hours about everything or nothing at all. You know the perfect thing to do or say to cheer me up when I'm upset, you even know when I _am_ upset, I don't have to say anything. You feel like home." She holds his head in her hands, palming either side just above his ears, anchoring him so he has to look into her eyes. "That's not something that's easy for me to feel, because before Emma introduced me to your family I never felt a sense of belonging to anyone, not even my own parents. You are my home, I never really had one before you."

She should not be comforting him, not right now, but she is anyway and he loves her so much his entire body physically aches. He's caught up in the moment, trying to think of the exact words to say, when she adds. "Besides, all of those men were absolutely awful lays, a real disappointment."

He pouts, playing along, but can't help but add, "You're joking." She is, she told him she didn't sleep with anyone, and she's just being cute, lightening the mood a bit. But still, he needs to hear it's a joke.

"I _am_ joking," Regina sighs, "I mean, they were all shit except for Andrew, now he was…"

" _Not_ funny," Robin warns, shifting away from her, a bit playfully. "The thought of you with any other man is no laughing matter," he argues, pressing a kiss to her lips.

She gives him a quick peck back.

"I swear, the year we were apart, other than some unsuspecting guy's leg, the only action I got was from my own hand." He laughs, and she echoes the action, face lighting up into a sheepish smile. It's funny, but she can't really bring up touching herself without the images racing through his head, and he's only just got her back and it does not take much, not at all, to get him all hot and hard for her.

"Roland's asleep?" he asks, and she's barely managed a nod before he kisses her deeply. She's caught off guard, makes that surprised little _Mm!_ before she kisses him back, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.

Robin hoists her up into his arms as he stands, not breaking the kiss. Regina wraps her legs around him and lets him take her. God, he loves how they fit together.

He's carrying her in his arms when he finally brings himself to break the kiss, panting "I want you in our bed."

There are lots of places he could have her now, namely any damn spot in the house except for where his son is sleeping, but he wants her in the room they share, where he sleeps next to her, where they made a life (and a son) together.

Where no one else gets to have her.

"Right now?" she asks cheekily, when he's halfway to the bedroom. She licks his earlobe and nibbles it in this way that always drives him crazy. "What about dinner?"

"I plan to eat well," he insists, and then rasps into her ear, "I'm going to make you come so hard you won't be able to see straight."

"Promises, promises," she says teasingly, but this isn't a joke. It's been four days since they got together, and they've ended up fucking at least twice each day. And this can't continue forever, but certainly isn't going to end anytime soon. So now, he's going to try to give her the best she's ever had, or at least the best she's had in the last week, overworked muscles and sore dick be damned.

He enters the bedroom and pins her against the door, kissing her fiercely. She likes this, being taken hard, and these past few days she's craved it, has actually been the one to initiate sex in this aggressive, almost desperate way that they now seem to need.

She makes this little sound as he kisses her, a throaty little moan that zings right to his dick, has him wanting her even more than he already had. He urges her to get out of his arms and stand. Regina goes easily, and then he's pushing her hard against the door and unbuttoning her pants.

"Christ you're beautiful," Robin breathes as he sheds her of her jeans and panties, rucking them down to her knees. "So, so beautiful. And mine."

He finishes stripping her from the waist down (not an easy feat, those jeans are skin tight) and then looks up at her from his position, kneeling before her. She's all sweet and smiling, hands threading through his hair in that tender, loving way she has about her.

The hell with foreplay, he takes her just like that, licking up her thighs til his mouth is right where she likes it. And he's not the only one oddly turned on by this unexpected conversation, thank god.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he moans. He eats at her greedily, savoring the feel of her on his tongue. When he places a firm lick right around her clit, he hears her head hitting the back of the door with a little thump, and fuck, that's hot.

Regina lets out that little gasp she always does, he loves that, and then, _God, Robin…_

Maybe he's being pathetic, but he absolutely gets a thrill out of her saying _his_ name. And the fact she never said anyone else's like that over the year they were apart (and won't ever again) is perhaps the best feeling in the world.

"Say my name again, darling," he begs, "Want to hear you scream it. Say it like you belong to me, let me hear you." He gives her a few strong licks alongside her clit before he dives right into it, and fuck if she doesn't sound like a goddess when she moans his name.

 

.::.

 

Regina is not normally a fan of jealousy. Usually it implies a lack of trust, a symptom of insecurity in a relationship. She finds jealous partners come across as whiny and insulting, angry and petty, and always counted herself lucky that Robin was, for the most part, not a jealous man.

But _this,_ now, for some reason... this is hot. Telling her how lucky any man would be to have her, and then very much wanting her all to himself, the way he hauled her off to bed like he couldn't bear to let her go... it makes her feel so _wanted_ , so _sexy._ So much so that she doesn't mind the fact he saw her dating profile, or looked up other men she might have spoken to. It seems to have made him more appreciative and desperate for her, even now, as he's between her thighs, making her legs tremble as she fights to stay standing, leaning against the door for support because god, he's good with his tongue, always has been, and _fuck,_ he's doing that _thing_ , those little sucks between hard swipes of the tongue...

"Hmm, Robb _iiinn!"_ She scrapes fingernails against his scalp and tries to keep her balance. He moans into her sex, at the sound of his name, she knows. And suddenly she knows exactly what to say to make him lose his mind even more.

"Robin?" she rasps.

"Mm?" he doesn't pull back, doesn't take his tongue off her clit to even answer her, he's too far gone, she thinks, and it's sexy as all get out.

"You're the only one who — _oh god! Please, more, I_ — the only one who has ever had me like this... _ahh_ ! I've never had _this_ standing before, not in this way with anyone else…"

That does it. He gives her a hard suck, hard and long enough to where she thinks she will come right there, but then he's pulling back to look at her.

"All mine?" he asks, that coy little smile on his face, and she nods.

He lifts the threadbare shirt she's still wearing up and off her.

He swoops in to claim her lips, and what starts as a peck becomes something deep and passionate. He tastes like her, and she loves that. She likes being his, too.

"Never with Daniel…" Robin rasps, kissing her neck.

"No," she replies.

"Not with Graham…" He swirls his tongue around one nipple and then the other, and she lets out a gasp, her hips thrusting into air, looking for friction.

"Never with Graham," Regina confirms. He is kissing down her body now, and it's slow and torturous, pleasure building with every press of the lips, every gentle swipe of his tongue.

"Not with Jefferson."

"Definitely not," Regina almost laughs. Jefferson would be the last man to kneel before her like this.

"All mine," he all but whispers. Her insides go molten, nerve endings light up. God, she's had so much sex for the past four days she can hardly believe how desperately she _needs_ it again already.

He's kissing around her navel now, tongue laving against sensitive skin, and she looks down and realizes he's kissing those telltale signs of her pregnancy, those little stretch marks by her hips that haven't ever completely disappeared.

"Those are all yours too," she laughs dryly, "sadly."

"Not sadly; I love them," he says earnestly. He's always said that, and she's never truly believed it, until now, the way he's worshipping her, kissing and touching them. And she supposes it's nice, being marked in some way that connects them.

Robin fully kneels back down between her legs and offers her a satisfied smirk.

"I'm the only one who gets to see this view," he breathes, kissing the apex of her thighs gently.

Regina runs a hand through his hair, and nods her head.

"Not Andrew," he murmurs between wet little licks of his tongue. His voice is heated and passionate despite the fact that it's ridiculous. Of course Andrew hasn't kneeled before her; they've never even met. But it seems to make everything feel _more_ intense.

"Not Andrew," she says, "he never even got a chance… never got to touch me— _oh fuckk, like that...!"_

"Poor bastard," Robin mutters, "he probably thought about it... probably jerked off thinking about you... but he never got you."

That shouldn't get her hot, shouldn't shoot a bolt of electricity straight to her clit, but it does, the thought of Robin claiming her over someone else who will never have her, combined with the teasing things he's doing with his mouth now, god…

"Babe, please!" She palms the back of his head and pushes him into her. It's a bit aggressive for her tastes, but she really, _really_ needs to come, and she can't take any more teasing.

"Fuck," he grunts into her sex, the puffs of air just make her even more turned on, have her gasping.

And thank god, he lifts his hand up, and _yes,_ thank god, she really wants his fingers…

"Ahh— _mm_!"

Two fingers thrust in fast and hard, and it's both pleasure and a slightest edge of pain. It's been four days of fucking each other raw, and while she's been practically dripping each time, soreness is an inevitability.

She hopes he didn't notice. Hopes in vain, because the second she cries out his fingers still.

"You okay?" he asks.

"Yesss," she hisses, thrusting into his palm. "Don't stop."

But he's already drawing his fingers out slowly, and is looking at her, pleading for honesty.

"I'm a little sore but it's nothing," she admits.

"Oh," he frowns, "Damn it… I…". He needs this. She knows he does. He's thinking about how he almost lost her to another man, and he needs to be with her again, renew their connection, and that is exactly what she wants, too. Which is why she's going to insist on this happening, the small amount of discomfort will be obliterated by the pleasure anyway. "But you're so wet, you've always been…"

"It's bound to happen when you've come about twenty times in four days" she points out. "It's nothing, I'm sure you're sore, too, but you still want it. It's okay, just.."

"It's not okay. I won't hurt you," Robin argues. "I can just," he swipes his tongue firmly over her where she's swollen and aching, "do this."

But that's not what she wants, not at all, so she whines out a little _Nooooo_ and a _I really want to fuck you._

He chuckles, and then nods and, oh thank god, she's never been so happy to win an argument in all her life.

"Let me…" he walks over to her nightstand and opens the drawer, takes out a bottle of lube where she's always kept it. .She doesn't really _need_ it, but it can't hurt. And he's right, it may prevent injuring herself further.

But now he's looking down at the drawer at something that must have caught his eye.

"What's this?" he asks, holding a very new toy in his hand.

She doesn't blame him for not recognizing its purpose (though maybe he should, given the location — she keeps her sex toys in that drawer). It doesn't look like a vibrator at all. It's an oblong shaped object with a little crystal for a power button, a thick, circular silicone band on the other end.

"That's your competition," she says, raising an eyebrow at him. He still looks puzzled, so she gives him a minute, lets him process it. She watches him turn it on, and when the vibrations start, and he thumbs over the silicone ring and feels the sucking pressure, it dawns on him.

"Oh…" He smiles, looking at it. "Is it good?"

"Very," she confirms.

"When did you get this?"

"Right after Ruby's bachelorette. Uh, a friend recommended it."

She's not going to tell him who and he's smart enough not to ask, because that friend is Emma, and nothing could kill the mood more than putting the image of his sister masturbating in his head.

So she glosses over _that_ issue and adds "I didn't have you and I was going crazy. This was decidedly safer than humping a guy's leg whenever I needed to get off."

" _Fuck,_ that's sexy," he mutters. "Use it for me, please."

"Now?" She asks, and chuckles when he nods his head vigorously. She walks towards Robin and takes the object out of his hand. "Only if you promise to fuck me afterwards."

He swallows thickly. "I don't think I'd be able to resist," he assures, motioning her to the bed.

Regina takes a deep breath and lies down, checking to make sure the door is closed. This particular vibrator isn't terribly sexy, it just… lays on top of her and does all the work. But there are still things she knows that can turn Robin on.

She settles on the bed, runs a finger through her wetness and circles it around her clit. "It goes here," she explains, centering the silicone ring around her clit. It's good to know, in case he'd ever like to use it on her.

And then she turns it on, letting her free hand graze over her breast.

He leans down and kisses her ear.

"That's it, darling, get yourself off."

She loves this toy on its own, but the combination between it and his voice is going to be fantastic.

Robin takes his seat in the chair nearby. He looks absolutely entranced.

She turns the vibrations up, the intensity higher, just a few clicks…

She shuts her eyes tight and bites back a moan, because it's too soon, much too soon, for her to be this far gone. But this thing is special, can have her coming in a minute if she's not too careful.

"No, don't hold back," she hears Robin utter, "I want to hear you."

"I won't last long," she gasps, throwing her head back. He has no idea how _good_ this is, the things it does to her..."unless I try to draw it out."

"Fuck, you look amazing," he groans. She hears him unzipping, adjusting, and tilts her head and squints to find him with his hand on his cock, looking like he's about to eat her up. "I used to think about this all the time. When we were apart…"

"Me too..." she sighs. She can still hear him, but his words are being drowned out by the vibrations and the sharp building pleasure. "I used this — _ah! —_ so much over the last year, right before I would see you, right after…"

Her eyes are shut tight, so she can't see him, but she hears that deep groan, hears him getting up and then he's beside her, stroking up her legs. It feels so much better, stronger, feeling him touch her as she edges ever closer. His hands slide slowly from her thighs to her belly, past her ribs, to her breasts. It's the perfect compliment to the steady thrumming vibration between her thighs, and when he lightly pinches a nipple, and bends down to lick the other, she lets out this loud cry that she's very lucky does not wake Roland. Robin echoes the sound. God, he's nearly as bad as she is and he's not even being touched. She moves the vibrator just a tad, just off where she needs it, just to prolong this a little more before she finishes.

Robin kisses her lips, just a small heated little peck, and then pleads, "Tell me what you'd think about when you did this without me."

Words are hard, and she's right on the edge, so she can only gasp out, "You."

He knew it was coming, had to, but she still catches his sharp intake of breath, and groans "Only me?"

It's enough to pop the mood just a tad because she can't resist teasing him, and well, it wouldn't be exactly true to tell him she got off to _only_ him over the course of the entire year they were apart. "Mm, well, one time Sam Heughan was there, too."

Robin snorts, and she chuckles, but doesn't stop, just moves the little toy on the edge of where she needs it, stoking the fire but not setting her up in flames.

"And what were we all doing?" he asks. He's touching himself now, with his free hand, and apparently the mention of another man hasn't completely killed the sexiness of the moment for him, which is good because reliving _that_ fantasy is gonna make her fall apart in seconds.

She gasps. "You were showing him how to make me come…"

"Because I know you best." He rasps into her ear, again not a question, but not untrue. His hand is on top of hers now, and he's pressing that little magic device into her, moving it to where she needs it, proving those words right.

"Mmhmm, _yessss_ Robin…" she moans, "that's so good… you were telling him how to touch me and... _mmm!_ … and then he... finished me… and you, you took over and fucked me."

"...Because I'm the best at making you come." His voice is so confident and _sexy_ now, determined. He guides the toy on its own, and the ring shifts right into place.

"Right there," Regina gasps, and oh god, each vibration is strumming through her veins now, catching and singing into nerve endings, spreading ripples of pleasure through her body. She arches her back as her thighs start to tremble, and yes, this is going to be good, really good, she just needs to topple over that edge...

But then he moves if off her, damn it, and she whines, fights it, tries to move it back to where she needs it, but he doesn't release his grip. He just drops a kiss to her lips and whispers. "Tell me, tell me no one knows your body like I do. Tell me no one makes you come like I do."

If it were anyone else, it wouldn't be so hot, hearing him so possessive, begging her for validation, and, well, it's true, and she really wants to come.

"No one makes me come like you do," she pants. "No one feels as good as you do, you're all I want, mm, Robin…"

"I was better than him." His voice is deep and edgy, and full of longing, fuck, this is hot.

" _Yesssss_ , you were, _god_ , he was good but you were better, please Robin, I—"

He moves the toy right back where it was, his grip slackens as she lets him position it just right, and she sighs as her hips rock just the slightest bit into it, and she squirms, and the it locks into exactly where she sees it and she sees stars.

" _Mmm_ fuckkk, I'm, Robin, _oh_!" Her eyes roll backward and her body arches, everything goes tight and tense.

"Yes, gorgeous, come for me, say my name… wanna see you come for me, thinking about me when you—"

Tremors of pleasure course through her, and she falls off that edge, finally, _finally._ It's _intense,_ it always is with this toy, but with Robin's hand holding it steady and where she needs it, it's more so.

She feels herself settling after the orgasm, but he's holding that vibrator steady against her, and she taps his hand, half out of habit, letting him know it's over.

He shakes his head. "You can have another, darling." He must have figured it out, how the toy doesn't directly touch, just goes around her clit, and that means she doesn't need a break at all, and _god_ , she's going to come again, fast and hard...

"Can you... fingers…" her legs start to twitch as the ecstatic bliss builds deep inside again. She's never had this with something inside her, and if it can in any way enhance this feeling, then…

"God yes," he says. He still has the lube and his fingers are wet and glistening as he glides them in carefully. She's close now, feels herself squeeze around those fingers and _oh fuck that feels amazing._

Her back arches so high she almost feels herself jumping off the bed, and as he gradually picks up the pace she grinds into the vibrator harder, readjusts, and…

"F-faster…"

"Fuck, love, you look…" he groans, and she catches him just watching her work on herself, and it's _so sexy,_ the way he's watching her right now. "Can't wait to be inside you again when you come, you feel so good around my fingers, come for me again, for me, only for me, darling…"

She does, squeezing tight around his fingers as those little spasms hit her, and then she's flying high, weightless and free, crying out something to him, she can't even hear herself, the feeling is too strong...

He doesn't let up this time either, and she's still gasping and catching her breath when the pleasure builds back up.

"Don't stop," she gasps, because she is going to come again, that will happen, and soon.

"Never," he groans, and there's so much weight, such power and sincerity to his voice that it makes her shiver.

Orgasm pulses through her in a matter of seconds, and she doesn't hold back, grabs the back of Robin's head and pulls him into a kiss to swallow shouts that might wake their son as she spasms and rides the pleasure out, milking it for everything it's worth.

She loves kissing him, loves that little surprised and desperate moan that he makes when she grabs him like this, almost like he's grateful for her, and she loves that even more since they got back together.

She comes yet _again_ , or maybe it's just one long orgasm, she isn't sure, but she's gasping in his mouth for air, still not over the electric sensation that's pulsing through every nerve, and he's muttering and kissing her neck, something about how _beautiful_ she is, how _gorgeous_ she looks when she comes for him, and how much he missed seeing her like his, how he never wants it to end. It's sweet and sexy and she draws out every ounce of ecstasy she possibly can from his fingers and the vibrating bliss between her legs.

The hot and heady kisses slow, cool down into soft, gentle, tongue-filled pecks between heavy pants. He draws his fingers out of her and turns off the toy.

 

.::.

 

He's never been so close to coming without being touched. His cock is throbbing, absolutely painfully aching, and if he doesn't get some relief soon he might just lose his mind.

She just came four times in short order in front of him, looking otherworldly as she reached that peak each time, and each time _did_ things to him he couldn't ever put into words. Its satisfying in every way, maybe because she's all his, because she trusts him enough to bare herself to him in this way, because she comes like a fucking champ and looks like a goddess doing so, while telling him how perfect he is for her, and how she only wants him… God, he's lucky she didn't try to touch him during all of that, or he would have made a mess all over her and embarrassed himself.

She's still catching her breath next to him, breathing out an _Oh my god, oh my goddd_ that is riling him further, because _Christ_ , she's really far gone.

He knows he's not the only person to use a sex toy on her, she mentioned it years ago, when she asked him to use one on her early on in their relationship. So he's not the only one who's gotten to see her like this, but he's sure he's the only one that's watched her come _that_ hard and _that_ much in such a short amount of time. The thought makes him itch for her even more, has him wanting to get on top of her and fuck her hard and selfishly, but he won't do that, not now, he needs to feel connected to her, needs to make her come around him, needs to feel special and wanted and needed, so he's going to hold back, he is.

"Fuck, that was amazing," Regina sighs, a hand running over her forehead and into her hair. "I didn't think that," she looks towards the vibrator, at its place on the bedstand where Robin had placed it, "could get any better, but everything's better with you."

And there she goes again, making him want her even more than he thought possible.

She moves first, though, climbs on top of him with a devilish smile, and urges him out of his tee shirt. And then she's kissing his chest and abs, and oh god, she's working her way down, down, and fucking Christ, it's going to feel so good, her mouth is so perfect, but that's the last thing he needs, he's no more than a few sucks away from coming….

"Darling, I want that so bad but I— _mm_ ! " she's pulling at his boxers, shooting him that pleading look, and he arches his back to help her slide them off, "Regina _oh Christ!_ —" she's kissing his stomach, swirling sucking kisses that make his cock visibly twitch, _god,_ the aching is even worse, he should just let this happen, it would feel so good, such sweet relief, but no, "I—I want to fuck you, I want to—" her tongue slides from his belly button down the shaft of his dick, and words fail him, all he can see is black, his balls must be fucking purple by now, his dick is swollen and aching underneath the pressure, and he wants to just sod it all and let himself go, give in and feel that release...but he doesn't want this to end. Not just yet.

"You can go more than once," she muses with a coy smile, "I want this," and then she takes him in his mouth, pulls back the foreskin and slides her tongue down his shaft, and he's fisting at the sheets and moaning until she releases him to add, "I haven't finished you with my mouth yet… I miss it…"

A voice in his head tells him this is just pillow talk, that this isn't something anyone would _miss,_ but then she's swirling her tongue around the tip of his cock and those thoughts fly out the window.

He moans and nods, lets her take control. He looks down at her as she takes him in her mouth and fucking hell, it's quite the sight, her lips wrapped around his cock, tongue peeking out on every other stroke to wrap around his shaft, eyes peering up at him teasingly. She's all his, completely and in every way.

"Fuck, you look beautiful with my cock in your mouth," he moans, "all wrapped around me, oh fuck, love, your tongue is—."

Her cheeks hollow as she gives him a mind numbingly deep suck, and the she releases him from her mouth with a wet little pop.

"Mmhmm, only for you," she grips his cock, he's coated in her spit, so when she strokes him it feels like absolute heaven. "I'm all for you."

"Fuck!" He tosses his head back, he wants to watch her, doesn't want to stop looking, but it's too damn perfect. "I love you so much. So, so much, you know that, don't you, darling?"

She hums in the affirmative with him still deep in her mouth, and it makes his heart soar and cock ache at the same time. She can't say those things, not when her tongue is swirling around the top and sliding flat against that vein on his cock, not when her hands have moved from the base of him to his balls, cupping and squeezing in that way he absolutely _loves._ He reaches down to stroke her cheek gratefully once before running a hand through her hair, and she looks up at him with lust-filled eyes, and that's it, he can't fight it anymore. The pressure is building, she's sucking and touching and stroking him in a way he can't resist, and he feels himself hit that point if no return, and _fuck._

"Regina, I— _oh god,_ I can't, I'm going to—"

She just sucks harder, the angel that she is, a little bob of her head indicating it's okay (he feels the need to ask anyway, despite the fact they've done this thousands of times, it's just... been a while). He lets go, feels his balls tighten as he spasms and releases all of that pent up lust and love for her, coming fast and hard into her mouth.

He forces his eyes open to watch her, and god he loves this, loves that she swallows every last drop he gives her, because _she_ loves _him,_ loves him enough to do this, to at least act like she loves _this,_ and that's something, isn't it?

His legs twitch as the last of his orgasm leaves him and runs down her willing throat, and then he's urging her up and kissing her.

There's just a bit of the remnants of him on her lips, but it doesn't bother him at all, because "Fuck, I love when you taste like me." He doesn't give any fucks what people think of him for it, there's a bit of a thrill of tasting the sour hint of him on _her_ tongue, like she's _his_ , like she belongs to him...

So he kisses her deeply and enjoys every bit of it, then urges her to cuddle into his side. She goes easily, humming happily as she nestles against him like a kitten trying to find the perfect spot.

"That was…" he still doesn't quite have his breath yet, or his mind back, he's not sure how to phrase it. _Incredible_ sounds too trite, _amazing_ sounds overused, but it truly was both and more.

 

.::.

 

That was earth-shattering, mind numbing, absolutely bananas sex that may have broken a few laws of physics. There's no words to describe it. She still feels the echoes of vibrations between her legs, a steady pulsing that she's never quite felt for _this_ long afterwards.

"I know," she sighs, running a hand lazily up his chest, "You feel so amazing, there's nothing like it. I'm still all tingly."

He flashes her that goofy smile of his that makes her want to laugh and smother him in kisses. He's so, so cute. She's never going to tire of this, she thinks. She has no idea how either of them were able to go without this for so long, it's ridiculous, when you think about it.

"I love making you feel good," he sighs, bending down to kiss her hair as she snuggles in closer.

"Can I ask you something?" he says after a few moments of post coital bliss.

"Mhmm," she hums, letting her fingers trace the well-defined muscles of his chest.

"What happened on those dates?"

She chuckles, half out of amusement and half out of embarrassment. What a series of mistakes she made.

"I went out for cocktails with Matt," she starts, thinking back in the memory. "We talked about our sons, about being single parents… talked about baseball… he ordered for me when I was in the bathroom, said he knew it was a drink I would _just love_."

"Uh-oh," Robin's face screws up in an amused little smirk. He knows her well, too well it seems. Regina is _not_ the type you want to order for, and she's not one for surprises. This guy did both, and it grated on her.

"Yeah, but I did really like the drink," Regina giggles. "It was some apple infused whiskey with a few other ingredients, very good."

His face screws in disappointment. She understands, hell, if he had told her about a date _he_ had gone on she would have wished some disaster to befall whatever woman ended up out with him. So she plants little kisses into his chest, reassuring him that they are together, that they are _here,_ they made it through, before continuing.

"I was nervous…so I had a few more drinks. I... maybe got a little tipsy and he became more interesting with every sip."

Robin doesn't like hearing that, it seems. He screws his face into that look- the one where he's trying to conceal pain but failing. But he has nothing to worry about, not really.

"After cocktails he suggested a walk by the monuments. And I took him up on it."

He seems to like _that_ even less. He's all clenched teeth and angry eyes. And there's something a bit hot about it so she presses him a bit further.

"We held hands at some point…"

Robin doesn't disappoint. His reaction is somewhere between anger and devastation. A scowl on his face and eyes that look like they could throw daggers.

Regina laughs, rubs a hand through his hair. "Relax, nothing happened. While we were out he told me about growing up in the south… and how it taught him to always be a gentleman and treat a lady properly. "

Robin laughs, because he knows her, and adds, "Yikes."

Regina nods, "And he told me he was so sorry that I had to _do it all on my own,_ that I shouldn't have to work _and_ raise a child…"

"Fucker," Robin mutters, and she knows there's insecurity there, because they aren't exactly in the position where she can quit her job, and part of him thinks she deserves that, she knows.

"He was a little sexist," Regina laughs. "I like working, babe. So I didn't say yes to another date. But I did go on two dates with Michael."

"Two dates with the same man?" he asks, and oh, he didn't expect that.

She nods. "He worked for the Federal Reserve, had an eight year old girl…"

"He was a father, too." Robin stiffens. She slants her eyes looking at him, wondering why the fact she exclusively dated _fathers_ bothers him (shouldn't that be a _good_ thing, that she was looking for someone family oriented instead of some fuck boy?). But then she wonders if a part of Robin thinks she was trying to replace him.

"I liked dating someone with a child. I figured I'd never place them above you or Roland, and... a father, he'd be more likely to understand that, you know? I wouldn't be anyone's number one, and that makes it easier, because I knew they wouldn't be mine."

That seems to soften him a bit, if the tender expression on his face is any indication. But then, he shifts. "Why two dates with _Michael?"_

He's cute when he's jealous.

"We got on quite nicely. And I just felt comfortable with him… and I had seen you and Marian together at dinner. That night you went out with Emma, Neal, Will, and Killian?"

"Ahh…" he recalls that evening, smiling sadly and shaking his head. "It was after the group meeting and Killian just told us where the gang was... it just happened."

Regina nods. "But I felt like I should move on since you did, so I pushed myself. It became a pattern, actually. I'd see you with her or think about you and her, and I'd tell myself it was time. So I talked a bit with Michael, and then we went out, and there was…" she smiles at him sheepishly, "I guess... some chemistry? He was... witty, kept me on my toes…"

His face falls, and he looks less angry now, more upset. She doesn't really want that. "I told him I wanted to take it slow. For the second date we had dinner, a good dinner, and then on the ride home he tried to kiss me. And a second date, just a kiss goodnight, that's slow, right? And you weren't the only one who was sexually frustrated, god it was terrible, I wanted it so bad... I probably led him on. But it didn't feel right, when he dove in…" she shakes her head. "So I turned away from the kiss last minute. He caught my cheek, and pretended that was what he was going for... but..."

Robin's jaw is still locked, that expression on his face looks less angry, less hurt, more predatory.

He claims her mouth, hungry and frantic, presses lips against hers before darting his tongue across them, asking for entrance. She opens to him, lets him kiss her deeply, push her back until he's half on top of her.

He releases her mouth with a wet smack, pulls back to look her straight in the eye.

"He didn't kiss you," he says sternly.

"No," she responds, though maybe he should have, because Robin's got this fiery passion in him now, and it seems jealousy _does_ things to him, things that really make her hot.

"Only I get to kiss you." He plants a kiss on her like a stamp, verifying his words, searing and passionate against her lips, as if they could leave scorch marks in their wake.

"That's how I want it," she assures, offering her neck to him so he can trail a path of kisses down it.

"You didn't want him touching you like I do," he whispers in her ear, giving it a teasing little nip. Then he throws the blankets back and then he's working his way down her body, making her his with his tongue and teeth and lips.

"No," Regina agrees, her voice breathy and affected by each warm press of his lips and tongue. She throws her head back and just lets herself _feel._ He's on her breasts now, and he takes nipple in his mouth, nipping and sucking the way she likes it. It's not gentle, which is _good,_ because she doesn't want soft and sweet, not now, she wants it rough and passionate. So those hard sucks send jolts of electricity through her, zinging right to her clit, have her opening her legs for him. "I don't want anyone but you. God, Robin…"

" _Yesss,_ say my name," he hisses, and fuck that's hot, "tell me you want only me."

"Fuck me," she begs, a little desperate moan coming out of her as he nips at her a bit too much.

"Only me," he pants against her skin, "say you only want me."

"I… _mmmph_!... I only want you," she moans, writhing under him for some sort of friction, but no, he's working her up with nothing, and it's torture.

"I don't think you realize how crazy it makes me to think of you with someone else," Robin murmurs between strokes of his tongue. "I want to fuck you so hard, right in front of everyone so they know that you're mine."

"I'd let you— _God please- fuck yes!"_ He finally, _finally_ puts his hand between her legs and gives her a nice rub, the moan she lets out is damn near pornographic, and she wouldn't care, but Roland's asleep, so she covers her mouth with her hand, biting down on the flesh of her palm to keep from screaming as his fingers toy with her clit.

Robin stops though, leaves where she's wet and begging for him, moving to peel that hand away from her mouth.

"Don't do that," he urges, "I want to hear you scream for me."

" _Roland,_ " she warns, trying to keep from shouting out as he gives her his hand again, lets her rock into him.

"I don't care, we'll risk it. I _need_ to hear you, you've no idea... I just need it, please?"

She looks at him, he's all desperate and pleading, and she _really_ shouldn't, she'll be mortified if Roland wakes up and wanders in while they are like this.

"Lock the door," she breathes. Robin's up and over to the door in an instant, and she breathes a sigh of relief to hear the click of the lock.

He doesn't climb right back on top of her, he's too busy staring at her sweetly, and for a second she worries this has gone too soft, that they've lost that bubble of jealous rage, but there's still that glint in his eye, thank god.

"You've no idea how good you look," he rasps, "I love you like this," he rubs a hand up her leg, from ankle to the apex of her thighs. She jerks her hips into his hand the second they get close to touching her, and it makes him chuckle. "God, you're so wet already, darling."

"Mhm," she gasps, letting out an impatient "I want you," seconds later. Why is he not back on top of her?

She takes matters into her own hands, sits up on the bed and wraps her arms around his neck. He seems to appreciate the boldness, lets out a little sigh of pleasure before kissing her again. And then he lifts her into his arms and she wraps her legs around him.

They are both naked and ready, and he's taking her to the wall, and oh, yes, that will do quite nicely.

"You should have just called me if you were horny," Robin whispers as he slams her against the wall. "I would have seen to you."

She doesn't like that word, not usually, but now, it's fitting, she thinks about when she was alone, wanting to be touched so desperately, and fuck it, she absolutely _should_ have called him. She wiggles and squirms until she's lined right up with him, and gasps, loud and indulgent as she rocks her core right against his erection.

"Thought about it," she moans. He's thrusting back, and she's sliding up and down over his cock and it's just perfect. "Thought about it all the time… _"_

"I swear to god, I'm not joking, I'd take you right there, while you were out on your _date_ , grab you and drag you to the bathroom and fuck you til you screamed for me…" he's really pent up, almost angry, but for some reason it's hot as hell, has her aching with need, "So _he_ would hear, so he'd know that you were mine… tell me you're mine again babe, tell me…"

"I'm yours," she moans "Now please—"

"Your fucking gorgeous body is only for me," he pants, "no one else gets you like this, only me…"

"Only you— _Robin!_ Please I need you to make me come…"

She's reached past the point of playful foreplay, is aching for him, and all this talk of belonging to him, that's just spurring her on, making her want him more.

He urges her to stand, and she does, lets him take the lead. He runs a test stroke through her folds and it's sweet torture. He takes his time, slips a finger into her slowly, groaning at the feel of her, and watching her face intently.

"So, so wet, are you— does it—"

Somewhere in the lustful haze she remembers that the last time he did his she let on that she was sore, but now all she feels is the gentle hum and buzz of four past orgasms combining with the promise of more, and no, there's no pain.

"Doesn't hurt — feels so good," she breathes, pushing into him, "Fuck me."

He slips his finger out of her and guides himself into her, slipping through her folds. "So fucking wet, so tight… all mine," he breathes before thrusting inside her.

He lifts her leg, tilts her lower body towards him. She feels herself clenching around him, she's so far gone already, fuck…

He's just as bad as she is, let's out a startled cry at the feel of her wrapped around him that has the ache between her legs growing. And then he stares deeply into her eyes and says, "Do you want to come again? Come with me inside you?"

God, yes.

She throws her head back, moans something that he must know is a _Yes,_ and then pulses right around him and squirms back, tries to shift up and down on him herself.

"Fuck you're hot when you're on my cock," he moans, and then he begins thrusting against her. "I love watching you ride me, when you take control, you've no idea... most beautiful thing in the world…"

Speaking of taking control, the angle isn't quite perfect, so she shimmies her hips until she can locate the sweet spot. She finds it — the position that makes those hot currents glide through her, the sweet ache building with each jerk of his hips…. _it's good, it's good, it'ssofuckinggood, Robin, please, harder_ ….

"It feels the best with me," he whispers in her ear, "right?"

The edge of insecurity might be cute, if she weren't so far gone, completely in love with whatever type of possessive, frustrated, mark-your-territory fucking they are doing. So instead it just makes it sexier, has her moaning into his ear. "Never felt this good... _oh_ !... with anyone, ever, _Robin, godIloveyourcock!"_

There's a little grateful smile there, just a shadow underneath the carnal lust. But then he's biting his lip and moaning at the feel of her contracting around him, and groans, "You've no idea how good it is, so much better than I've ever... Christ you feel amazing…..",

He dives into the soft skin of her neck, kissing and sucking exposed flesh, and it sends ripples of pleasure through her, combining and mixing with the steady buzz between her thighs, making the perfect cocktail of ecstasy, and that's it, she's there, right in the edge…

"God, fuck me harder, Robin, please, don't hold back, fuck me how you want to!" She wraps both legs around his waist, so he's holding her completely, has her, all of her. Her back burns, the steady banging against the wall behind her leaving her a bit raw, but it's hot, being taken so hard. So hot that it doesn't even hurt, just adds to the pleasure brewing inside her.

He's whispering promises, telling her he won't hold back, won't ever hold back, that he's got her, that he's going to make her come so hard for him. He fucks her hard and fast, like she wants, and there's both pain and pleasure with each thrust. He has her so worked up she loses the rhythm completely, isn't able to answer every rocking of his hips with hers. He takes care of that, presses a hand firmly into her hips and moves her how he needs her, it's so good, so good _._

"God, I love you," he rasps, "you've... no idea... how lucky I feel to have you... I just…"

Everything is popping and zinging, and she starts to see bright bursts of colors exploding behind her eyes…

"I can't believe it sometimes, can't believe that you're mine... I never want to lose you, darling, can't... mmm! Fuck, you feel incredible…"

She knows what he means, and she feels the same. This doesn't seem _real_ yet, it's like a dream, that she gets him back, loving her, pleasing her, worshiping her... it's all too much.

She wants to tell him all of this, but she's intoxicated on the emotion of the moment and the feeling inside her, so she only manages a _Me, too_ . So she scratches her nails against his back, making _him_ hers, leaving her imprint in red, passionate marks. That feeling is bubbling inside her now, fire pooling in her belly, growing with every stroke of his cock. The way it somehow manages to rub against her clit and hit that spot inside her that has her losing the ability to think, and there's no turning back now…

"C-Close…" she whines, gripping him tightly, fingernails dig harshly into his back, and he groans appreciatively.

"God yes, love, come on my cock, _please,_ need to feel you come, so badly…"

She's so close, she wants to topple over that peak so badly, her eyes clench shut as she focuses on the pleasure, the feeling of his lips on hers, his cock inside her, his hands around her, and that's it, she feels her body jerking of its own volition, her back arching as she writhes in his arms…. so close, so, so close…

"Oh Robinnnn _ohfuckinggodimcominggggg_.."

Her mind goes blissfully blank as orgasm rips inside of her, jolts of electricity shooting and pulsing as she comes.

She feels him jerking erratically, muttering something like _fucking beautiful_ and _so damn hot._

"Fuck, I'm going to come so hard, Regina, you're gonna make me come so hard, so much…"

She's still riding the aftershocks of orgasm, and thinking of him, coming hard for her, and it's _hot._ "I want to see you come babe, I… I want to feel it."

It's not what she usually requests, but he knows what she's getting at, can tell by the way he tosses his head back and mutters _Fucking Christ._

He grips at her tighter, leans so his lips are hovering over her ear, whispering "Do you want me to come on you, darling? Want to feel how hard you make me come?"

She hisses a _Yessss_ before diving in to kiss him again. He's moving erratically inside her, rhythm completely off now, but it's _good,_ sends a shiver up her spine, thinking of how close he is as he jerks into her.

"Mm, Regina, gorgeous, get on your knees for me…"

He lets her slide out of his arms as he pulls out of her, watches as she positions herself beneath him. "Tell me what you want," he begs, stroking her cheek gently.

"I want to feel you come on me," she breathes, and then she takes his cock in her mouth and gives it a firm suck. He didn't expect that, he thrusts into her mouth and lets out the sexiest damn moan she's ever heard.

"Love when you taste like me," she says when she releases his cock. "Come for me babe, let go, come on me, make me yours…"

He groans, takes himself in his hand and jerks himself while looking down at her with this awestruck look he gets sometimes. It's _sweet_ and _tender_ and she loves it, loves every part of him.

"You're so damn beautiful like this," he moans, "so fucking sexy, on you knees for me... I'm... god, Regina please do that again…"

 

.::.

 

He's looking down at her, appreciating the view of her, kiss swollen lips parted into a coy smile, her tiny frame folded in front of him. She's cupping his balls now, stroking and tugging gently, enough to build up this feeling inside him. Robin doesn't need it, though. Being with her defies whatever refractory period he's supposed to have, he's needed to come for ages now, and since he's felt her come around him it's been an acute ache, a _need_ . He locks eyes with her, and fucking hell she's so gorgeous, warm and inviting, he cannot believe he's this lucky, to have the most beautiful woman on the planet kneeling before him, _asking_ him to come on her, he just... she's so sexual, so free, and all _his,_ and he's about to make her that way, cover her in his own desire.

She didn't say _where_ he could release on her, and some animalistic part of him really wants to come all over her gorgeous face, to watch her accept and love every part of him... but they haven't discussed that, and he's so pent up, desire churning, having his balls tight and throbbing, he's going to come hard and he won't risk popping off into her eye and hurting her. So he focuses on her naked body, on her beautiful tits, warm olive skin around dark pink, stiffened peaks, and that's it. God, she's so fucking breathtaking.

He bites his, his lip and groans a warning _I'm gonna come. A lot, babe, I'm—_ and it's music to his ears to hear her warm and sultry response, telling him to _come on her,_ to _let her feel_ him.

He feels himself tremble as she squeezes his balls, and he can't hold back any longer, he can't…

The dam breaks hard and fast, and he aims away from her lovely face, onto her beautiful tits. It comes out in warm, strong spurts and feels bloody amazing, looks even better on her. He watches her coy smile as she looks down to watch the evidence of how badly he wants her paint her body, leaving a shiny, glistening trail as it drips over the hardened peak of her nipples. _._ She lets out a soft little sigh while he's coming and it intensifies everything, has him shivering and shaking as he finishes.

He can't control his mouth, is babbling, "Fuck, Regina, you make me come so hard, I— you're a fucking goddess, love you so much, so much…"

She takes everything he gives her, happily at that, and he feels so _desired,_ so _loved,_ feels like she's _his,_ and _fuck…._ she's all he has ever wanted in this world, and he _gets_ her, she's only his and in this moment he doesn't care how it sounds, she's his wife, his beautiful, sensual wife.

He doesn't stop looking at her until his release is over, keeps his eyes open for every drop that lands on her. When he's done, he braces his hand on the wall behind her, moans and lets his face fall and body slump as he catches his breath.

Fuck, that was mind blowing.

 

.::.

 

She doesn't blame him for needing a moment. Two hard orgasms in such a short time has got to have him wiped.

She's about to ask him to move, the need to get cleaned up taking precedent over the serenity of the moment, but then his eyes open and his expression goes soft and loving as he cups her chin and strokes her cheek.

"Sorry," he chuckles as he comes back down to earth. He steps into the master bath and comes back with a warm washcloth, urges her to her feet and cleans her up, kissing her tenderly. When he tosses the damp cloth in with the dirty towel hamper, he is still panting, still looks quite affected.

"You alright over there?" Regina asks, winking at him.

Robin lets out a shaky, muddled _Haaa,_ before composing himself. He runs fingers through her hair, and looks at her with a gentle reverence that punches her square in the chest, renders her breathless.

"I'm sorry. I... got a little carried away there… I didn't mean to get so jealous and predatory, I just..."

She chuckles and shakes her head. "Don't apologize. I _loved_ it."

His expression changes from one of worry to one of relief. "Yeah?" he asks, as a broad smile takes over his face.

"Every last bit of it," Regina confirms.

His eyebrows raise, head tilts to her in almost disbelief. And then he lifts her into his arms, carries her to the bed and lays her down, snuggling against her like a lovesick puppy.

"Sometimes I can't believe I found you. You're so perfect for me." He kisses her brow, her cheek, her jaw line. "I love you." His voice goes just a bit reedy, just a little unsteady. "You're the only woman I've ever truly loved. Thought I had loved before... but it's never been like this. I need you to know that."

Tears sting at the back of her eyes. It's unexpected at this moment, hearing such a tender confession. And maybe she always knew it, deep down inside, but now he's said it and it's _real._

She can't quite muster a response, just holds his gaze and gives him a little nod at first while she swallows the knot in her throat.

"The thought of losing you…" he trails off, "It terrifies me. More now that I know what my life is like without you."

"You're not going to lose me," she reminds him, "I was just as miserable as you. Probably more so."

He looks at her skeptically. "No, I would win that one, I'm afraid. I could barely function, I—"

She shakes her head. "Robin, I thought you were building a new life with Marian for almost a year."

His face falls, and he lets out a an angry huff of air. "I'm so, so, sorry about that, I—"

"We've already worked through _that,"_ she reminds him. They have, they've talked and shared and fucked the jealousy and hurt right out of her, and maybe when this new honeymoon period is over the pain will come back, but it's gone for now, there's nothing left of it. So she smiles and admits, "I just wanted to win. I was more miserable than you."

Robin laughs. "So stubborn. So competitive," he chides, but the tone of his voice is one of pure pride and love.

"You wouldn't have me any other way," she says contently.

"No, darling, I wouldn't," he agrees, shifting to spoon her, "I love every last thing about you. Truly."

Regina sighs happily, but he said he loved _everything_ about her, and that must include the way she teases. She shifts to face him, props herself up on her elbows and says, "That's what Andrew said, too."

He laughs, shakes his head disapprovingly and covers her in kisses, tells her he's determined to make sure she can't even _remember_ Andrew's name by the time he's finished with her.

He showers her in affection, in compliments, kisses, orgasms, trading jokes between words of love. And in the early hours of morning when they've _finally_ settled to sleep, she can't help but laugh at the thought that she will _never_ forget the name of the man who unintentionally gave her such a wild and passionate night.

She should thank Andrew one day.


	4. Chapter 4

Thanksgiving has never been a joyful holiday for Regina.

Her mother is the reason, of course. A holiday centered around food and family was never Cora's favorite, and she made everyone miserable in retribution.

But this year her mother cannot ruin the holiday, because Regina isn't spending Thanksgiving with her.

She's nervous, incredibly nervous, because  _this_ time if the holiday is miserable she may have to face the fact the holiday is horrible because of _her_ instead of her mother.

Emma slams the trunk shut and then jumps in the driver's seat. "Ready?" she asks. Her cheeks are red from the cold, lips chapped, and raw. Emma is wearing plain jeans and a faded scarf, a worn out knitted cap over her head that will undoubtedly mess up her beautiful hair. And her mother probably won't care at all.

Lucky.

She shakes her head slightly. "I guess…" She swallows heavily and tries to smooth out a wrinkle in her skirt. "I really would have been fine in the dorms, I told you I'm not much of a Thanksgiving person."

"And I told you, neither are we. It's just a nice big meal with Mary, who you've met, my mom, whatever guy she's with nowadays, and my brother. Robin may bring Marian, can't remember if they are dating… oh! I forgot to tell you something about Robin."

"Hmm?" Regina asks as she plays with her phone.

"My brother is... well, he has a British accent."

Okay, well, that was unexpected. She drops her phone and turns towards Emma, who is still navigating her way around Georgetown.

"He has a _what?"_

"I figured I'd let you know. I know you and men with accents, so I'm asking you to please, please don't mess around with my brother."

Regina laughs and shakes her head. "I know you don't think much of Graham, but it's not all about the accent…"

"Fuck it's not."

"I think you secretly like him," Regina teases. But she sees it, a nervous flicker over Emma's face that says she may be onto something.

Oh.

"Anyway I wasn't asking about his accent for that reason. He's your full brother, right? So how exactly does that work?"

Emma smiles as if she's relieved for the subject change, then shakes her head. "Ohh, _that_ . Okay, you thought _you_ had a dysfunctional family, listen to this. My dad and mom divorce, he decides to go back to England, and there's this boarding school he sells my mom on. He argues that Robin will have his pick of colleges, that it's so elite, that it's where barons and dukes send their children, blah blah blah. But then, he drops that the school is all-boys and there's no similar school for _me,_ so they'd have to split us. And my mom, for whatever dumb reason, just lets him take Robin."

"Oh, that's why Mary said she feels like she doesn't really know him well," Regina says, picking up on an odd comment Emma's younger sister had thrown into the wind earlier.

"Yeah, he came back for a few weeks in the summer, some odd days around Christmas break, and that was it. Until he came back at age 16 and refused to go back. I mean, I'm surprised he lasted that long. Our dad's a huge asshole and a mean drunk.. And my mother _knew_ that. She later told us she thought he'd be safe at boarding school, where his father couldn't hurt him, but well… he still managed to find his ways to be a dick.."

"Sorry," Regina breathes. Suddenly she feels… selfish. Or uncaring. Emma's listened to her horrible one-sided phone calls with her mother and she's always so sympathetic, but here she has _quite_ a terrible story of her own going on and Regina never so much as asked about it.

"Oh don't be sorry. Mom has her problems, Dad is horrible… Mary's father is an asshole too… but we have each other. And Mary is full of shit, she knows Robin _very_ well. She just always feels like we are closer. And we are, I mean we're only a year apart. But she thinks it's because we share the same dad. And that's not it at all."

"Ah," Regina says.

"So anyway, that's the Swan family rundown. And we do call ourselves Swans for family events, even though Mary is a Blanchard and Robin and I are Locksleys...it just, makes us all feel more united."

"That's… sweet."

"It was Robin's idea," Emma shrugs.

"He sounds great," Regina cops, but this has Emma groaning, and turning to face her at the next light.

"Regina, can you promise me one thing?"

"Of course."

"Please, please don't fuck my brother, okay?"

Regina snort laughs hard, catches her mouth in her hands to contain it, but Emma goes on. "I'm serious! I've lost three friends due to Robin, one he dated and she was devastated when they broke up, the other two… well, he indulged their crushes more than he should have and broke their hearts. My best friend from when we were seven years old, Lily? She won't talk to me anymore and it's all Robin's fault. So please, just… keep away from him. Alright?"

"Trust me, the last thing I want to do is hook up with your _brother_ ," Regina assures. Emma is her confidante, the person she shares everything with, and she's not about to compromise that by falling for her brother.

And she's completely, 100% certain of that until the moment she meets him.

 

.::.

 

Emma parks in the driveway, muttering something about her mother being out.

"Must have forgotten something and ran out last minute," she groans. "Classic Ava."

She's ushering her into the garage, and then into the kitchen. There's a man there, his back to them, front fishing around in the fridge.

All Regina can see is the back of the man's arms flexing in a well-fitted white tee shirt, and a rather nice backside that she probably shouldn't be admiring since this is almost assuredly Emma's brother.

"Emma-nator! That you?"

"Who else would it be?" Emma's voice goes high and childlike, it's sweet, actually.

He spins around and…

Oh fuck.

It's no wonder Emma's friends had crushes on her brother. He's gorgeous. Bright blue eyes, perfectly styled brown hair, deep dimpled smile.

"Why, hello there," he says, smiling at her, holding the two beers he apparently fished out of the fridge. She assumes one is for Emma, but he grabs a bottle opener, pops the caps, and hands one to Regina, as if it were always meant for her.

He's charming, she'll give him that. And, she likes his voice. Emma was right about that.

"Hello," she answers, a coy smile spreading over her face as she eyes the beer he's offering her. "That's for me?"

"Well, what sort of gentleman would I be if I didn't offer you a beverage in my home?" he asks sweetly.

("Christ, not again," she hears Emma mutter, but she's too enchanted by Robin to tease her right now.)

"Ahh, since you're such a _gentleman_ , I assume the other beer in your hand is for your sister?" Regina asks, eyebrows raised.

Emma swipes the beer from his hand. He shrugs, lets her take a sip, and wraps an arm around her shoulder, pressing a little kiss into her temple.

"Thanks for the beer, Robin." Emma smirks, "Regina, this is the brother I told you about. Robin, this is Regina, my roommate."

"Mmhm, I gathered," Robin responds, his eyes still locked with hers in a way that makes her flush. "So this is _the_ Regina. Emma has told me a lot about you, though I'd love to learn more—"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Robin, stop," Emma groans and rolls her eyes. "You _promised."_

Robin points at himself and gasps in mock disbelief. "What did I do?"

"You _know,"_ Emma groans, grabbing Regina by the shirt. "Come on, I'll show you where we're sleeping tonight."

They've barely taken two steps when Robin teases, "Yes by all means, Emma, show her your room. Be sure to show her where the Bieber posters used to be."

"God damn it, Robin," she mutters, and then turns to Regina. "I don't want to hear it."

"You're a Belieber!" Regina says, looking pleased as punch as Emma cringes and walks away.

 

.::.

 

Emma gives her a quick tour of the family house. It's a sweet home, by no means a mansion but definitely a large home. She always pictured Emma living somewhere small, perhaps a bungalow in a modest neighborhood. She certainly doesn't act as wealthy as she apparently is.

Mary, well, she is a different matter. The teenage girl is sweet, but she's lived a life of privilege and, from the looks of her room, is very spoiled. Still, Mary hugs her and welcomes her in that way she always does, and is so excited to share her family holiday with Emma's new friend.

They hear Ava rushing in right as the tour ends and Emma sighs and walks her down to the kitchen.

Ava is frantically unloading groceries and appears to be trying to prepare three sides at once.

"Hi, mom."

"Oh Emma, thank god, the turkey is cooking away but I forgot buttermilk and haven't been able to make mashed potatoes... do you think - can we still make it? Or maybe roasted potatoes would be better? Or maybe both? Do you think Walt will be okay with cranberry jelly from a can, or…"

"Jeez, mom, it's just Thanksgiving dinner, we aren't hosting for the queen," Mary groans.

"Mary Margaret, we have new guests. Haven't I told you how important it is to make a good first impression?"

Mary Margaret rolls her eyes and retreats back to her room.

Ava is still scurrying around, completely oblivious to Regina. This seems to amuse Emma who clears her throat.

"Speaking of first impressions, mom, meet Regina."

"Oh!" she looks up from the pile of groceries and straightens her skirt. Her posture goes rigid and she walks toward her. "Regina, I've heard lovely things. I'm Ava, Emma's mother… but you knew that, didn't you? I'm delighted you decided to spend Thanksgiving with us."

Regina shakes her hand cordially and thanks her.

"Emma, is Robin here?"

"Mm, he was a few minutes ago," Emma says. She starts cutting up vegetables and hands Regina a knife to help.

"Did she meet him?" Ava asks in just over a whisper. "Was he awful?"

Regina drops her knife and looks up at Ava, puzzled. _Awful?_ "Robin? He was a perfect gentleman. I enjoyed meeting him."

"He's in a _mood,"_ Ava says to Emma, "He's not a fan of Walt, apparently, though I've no idea why, and then I _told_ him to call your father and speak to him about maybe getting more money for your schooling, and—"

"Aww jeez, mom, why did you do that?"

"He's closest to him, and both of your costs will go up next year, and he has the money…"

"Robin is not close to him at all, you _know_ that."

"He's going to have to forgive and forget," Ava chirps. "I did, after all. The man provided a lot for Robin, and could continue to—"

"Mom." Emma tilts her head in the direction of Regina. "We have company and this conversation is not going to go well if you don't drop it. You know what Robin went through."

Ava turns red as if she forgot Regina was there, then clears her throat, "Yes, well… I'm so sorry, Regina, this family business is inappropriate conversation. Please, tell me about yourself."

Regina reads Ava well. She focuses on the nice things, keeps the conversation superficial and sweet. Shares holiday traditions in the Mills family that have been sterilized and bleached of the underlying abuse and manipulation that has plagued those moments.

It's what Ava wants, has her smiling warmly and giving answers right out of a Hallmark movie. It has Emma sighing and rolling her eyes as she prepares the mashed potatoes, but she doesn't interrupt the conversation.

But Ava tenses when she hears Robin enter the kitchen.

"Need any help?" He pops a cherry tomato into his mouth, and hell, if there is tension between Robin and his mother, he's doing a good job concealing it.

"Yes please. Do you remember how to do the brussels sprouts?" Ava points in the direction of the groceries. She's just taken a phone call, and seems partially distracted as she walks out of the kitchen.

"Mmhm," he hums, grabbing the bag of vegetables and sidles next to Regina, knife in hand.

"Hello again," he whispers next to her, bumping his hip against hers. He is wearing a new outfit, a pair of khakis and a nice, well-fitted blue sweater. God, he smells amazing, fresh and clean with a hint of some musky cologne, or maybe aftershave….

Her cheeks heat just at hearing his syrupy voice, feeling the slight friendly touch he's offering. She swears if a blush is showing through her makeup she's going to be mortified.

"Where'd you go off to?" she asks just above a whisper.

"Needed a moment to prepare for all this family fun," he says with a wink. "We have a small gym downstairs, so I made use of it and showered. Had to get my endorphins running to perk up my mood a bit for this day."

"Does that work?" she asks, but she needn't. It clearly has worked on him, he looks so... relaxed.

"Mhm, it does work. Exercise is great stress relief. Not as great as sex, but…" He pauses as she lets out a giggle she had tried so desperately to keep inside, and then he winks at her. "...it does well in a pinch."

"Good." Regina lets her eyes stare at him as she tries not to think about what it would feel like to _destress_ with Robin in the house, what sort of endorphins would pump through her veins after he worked himself over _her_.

But that will never happen, so she tamps down her rising libido and focuses on the salad she's making.

Robin shoots her another dimpled smile, before putting down his knife and making his way to Emma, who is now mashing potatoes on the stove.

"Thanks Emma-bean," he says softly.

"For what?" she asks quietly, back still turned to him.

"I heard that…" he admits, "about dear old dad and my need to call him. Thanks for setting her straight."

"It's nothing," Emma waves off. "Sorry she's being like this."

Robin shrugs and returns to the sprouts, winking at Regina playfully when he catches her eye. "Nothing says home like family drama, huh?"

"Trust me, you are making me feel _right_ at home," Regina mutters. "Actually, if you could add some meltdowns and passive-aggressive attacks on how much everyone is eating I'd feel _exactly_ at home."

He looks at her sympathetically. "Em told me you didn't want to spend the holidays at home. Don't worry. I'll make sure you have a better time here."

"That won't be too difficult," Regina whispers.

The three of them make light conversation while cooking. Regina and Robin tease Emma about her secret love of bubblegum pop music, Robin reveals that Emma has a lovely voice, and Regina finds herself begging for a mini concert in the kitchen. Emma tells Regina stories of Robin when he was younger in retribution, like the time he was afraid to swim in the ocean for two whole summers after watching _Jaws._ She also takes out her iPhone and shows some pictures of a young preteen Robin who made some rather _unfortunate_ life choices. Regina takes pity on him and shares a picture of her when she was a gangly preteen. She's wearing a shirt with a giant horse on it, smiling with a mouth full of braces. But Robin snatches her phone and scrolls through her baby picture folder while she playfully tries to get the phone back.

"Ever the princess," Robin murmurs, holding the phone up to a picture where she's in a puffy pink dress, complete with a small satin headband and an expression that looks… too old for her age then (she appears to be about four). Her eyebrows are raised high, face tilted at an angle, lips slightly pursed, looking almost regal, elegant, poised.

"I believe the camera man stole my cupcake. I had a flare for drama at a young age," Regina says, snatching her phone back.

"Has that changed?" Robin asks innocently.

"I wouldn't risk stealing my dessert just to find out," she warns quickly.

Robin chuckles and shakes his head. "Oh, I like you."

It's simple and easy, with them. She feels like she _fits,_ like she's already a part of the family. She's oddly more at ease here than she's ever been in her own home.

Her phone vibrates just then on the counter next to her. She looks down and sees a text from Graham.

"Emma, he texted to wish me a happy Thanksgiving," she calls over.

"Graham?" she asks. "Don't be fooled. He probably wants something."

Regina rolls her eyes.

"Emma, that's no way to talk about Regina's boyfriend," Robin chides.

"He's not my boyfriend," Regina responds at the same time Emma exclaims _He's not her boyfriend._

Robin raises his hands in surrender. "Sorry, I didn't realize."

"He is just _fun,"_ Regina responds to him with a little smile.

"Is he, though?" Emma asks. "Because every time he's in our room all he seems to talk about is video games and stupid stuff on Youtube."

"Oh, yes, and August is a fountain of wit," Regina quips.

Emma's face flushes red as Robin _oohs_ and asks, "And who is this August?"

"Don't," Emma warns, and Regina nods. If August is to be a secret, so be it. "Look, I know you say Graham is just fun or whatever, but I've seen how you look at him, and he's just… I don't want him to hurt you."

"He won't," Regina replies firmly. "I told you, I don't do relationships."

"Mm," Emma says noncommittally, pointing out, "look how happy you are to even get a text from him, though."

"I _really_ don't get your problem with him," Regina sighs. "He's polite, respectful, he's—"

"He's not so respectful. And he is as dumb as a box of rocks," Emma groans. "I swear if he didn't have that accent you'd realize…"

Robin takes a sudden interest in this. "Accent?"

"He's Irish," Regina says quickly, hoping to distinguish the accent enough so he doesn't think she has a thing for _Robin's_ accent (she does, Emma is right, but that's besides the fact, it's…). She shoots him this look, this _don't get too excited_ expression that she hopes puts him right in his place. And it seems to, if his sheepish smile is any indication.

"Ah," Robin says with a bit of a wince.

He's cute, very cute when he is embarrassed. So cute, in fact, and she decides to tease him a bit more and add, "He's great in bed."

Robin lets out a snort laugh and turns to her, eyebrows raised. "Is he, now? I'd like to hear more about that…"

"Robin…" Emma warns, and then turns to her, eyes narrowed and accusatory. "And Regina…"

She smiles back a half-hearted apology, and moves on. "Graham's a nice guy but it's nothing serious." She's finished making the salad, wandering back to the sink to wash her hands. She _could_ make that jalapeno cranberry chutney her dad likes, Ava would be happy with it… and she saw the peppers in the fridge, and the cranberries are here… hell, why not?

"And why is that?" Robin asks, curious, "Want to play the field a bit before settling down?"

"No, I'm _never_ settling down," Regina says primly as she washes the cranberries. "Emma do you think your mother will mind if I made a spicy cranberry sauce?"

"Oh god, she'd love you for it. She's already resigned herself on the canned shit. Go crazy." Emma looks down at her phone and sighs. "I'm on sister duty, Mary Margaret just sent me a text while she is literally upstairs in her room… but it sounds important… potatoes are done, so the stove is all yours, Regina. You okay here?"

"I'm fine," Regina assures.

"I'm sorry, I really didn't expect I'd invite you over our house to make your own dinner," Emma apologizes.

"Don't be silly, I like to cook," Regina waves her off.

Robin takes out a roasting pan and starts filling it with the sprouts, the pancetta, oil and garlic that has already sautéed. He seems to be a good cook, she'll give him that.

"So," he says as he works, "you were saying you are never settling. Why is that?"

She shrugs noncommittally. "I don't really believe in relationships. Not anymore."

"Em has a little of that," Robin says, "Mary, she's the exact opposite. Can't wait to find her Prince Charming. She's retreated into the land of fairy tales and convinced she can be apart of one. All of us were raised with such bad examples of love, it's interesting how it affected us all differently in relationships."

"From what I've heard you are perfectly fine with _relationships_ …" Regina tilts her head and eyes him pointedly.

"Oh, did Em tell you of my sordid playboy past?" Robin asks with a bit of a laugh. "She exaggerates. I went to an all boys school for much of my life, and then at 16 I had the opportunity to be around women more and appreciate them more, and maybe got a bit carried away. But I _like_ being with someone. I like having a person who you can trust and care for."

"It's horrible when it ends, though…" Regina murmurs.

Robin nods. "Did someone break your heart, then?"

Regina nods and sighs a quiet _"_ Yes."

 _""_ Well then, don't let the bastard win. Get up and love again. It's the best revenge."

He turns to pop the roasting pan in the oven.

"The person who broke my heart was my mother. My ex-boyfriend's father worked for my mother. She found out we were dating and offered his father a lovely promotion. In Oregon."

Robin coughs and looks at her incredulously. "Are you _serious?_ Your mother _actually_ did that?"

"Yes," Regina says with a sigh. "Maybe it would have fizzled out anyway, but she heard us talking about trying to attend the same college and that was it. Or maybe she just heard me say

'I love you', but in any case, right after chatting one night it happened, and mother made no secret of the fact it was done on purpose and that she'd chase away anyone who was unfit for me."

"Long distance didn't work?" Robin asks quietly.

"We tried, but it didn't last. He met someone a few months later and broke it off with me." Regina shrugs. "I wasn't worth waiting for, after all."

Robin leans against the stove and stares at her, waits for her eyes to meet his, and shakes his head. "Well that's a load of shit if I've ever heard it. From what I have seen, you are more than worth waiting for."

Regina rolls her eyes and bites her lip to keep from smiling. He's so cheesy. "Sorry I'm wincing at what a horrible cliche that line is. And also, you don't know me."

He shrugs and looks her up and down, not hiding the way his eyes take over her curves. It makes her shiver.

"I know you well enough," he insists, "Em and I are close, and I know you are a great friend to my sister — both my sisters actually. And Mary isn't easy, a young teenager spending multiple weekends in a small dorm room? You made her feel welcome, and don't think I haven't heard from her about that. And here you are, showing up to this absolute train wreck of a holiday, helping my mother fix a feast last minute... and you seem to be a good cook." He smiles and winks. "Also, you're easy on the eyes. _Very_ easy, in fact."

She groans at the last part, trying not to feel flattered. But there's a warmth spreading in her belly at the compliment. But Emma's warned her about him, and she won't fall for him like the unfortunate others in her past. So she sighs and asks, "Is this how it usually goes, with Emma's friends? A few little compliments and a nice smile and they swoon?"

Robin looks a bit taken aback, scratches his head and says, "Err… I truly wasn't—"

She smiles at him mischievously, let's him know she's just teasing and adds, "I'm not like your sister's other friends. I'm not that easy."

"I can see that," Robin smiles back. "Easy is boring. So let me add _interesting_ to the list of things I see in you."

She clicks her tongue at the roof of her mouth, attempting to look as unimpressed with him as possible. "Add _horrible flirt_ to the list of things I see in you."

His lips turn into a frown, his expression grows serious, and he points to her accusingly and adds, "Now now. Let's be serious. I am a _wonderful flirt."_

She hums, scrunches her nose as if considering and then says with a shrug, "Not from where i'm standing."

"Hmm, then stand a little closer to me." He motions right to his front, indicating he wants her to stand right against him. "The view's a bit better from over here."

She groans to conceal her laughter, but it's there, he catches it, and his eyes twinkle, as if he's won some elusive prize.

They continue their banter as the food cooks. And as the vegetables roast, as they simmer and soften, she feels herself doing the same, each and every time she catches his eye.

 

.::.

 

Ava's new boyfriend is loud and pompous, completely enamored with himself and wants the world to know just how wonderful he is. As dinner starts, he speaks over everyone, sings his own praises to a group who really do not care about his financial wizardry. Ava enjoys it, seems to eat up every boastful word that comes out of the man's mouth.

It goes awkward at first, everyone silent except for Walter's puffery and Ava's cheerleading.

But then Emma speaks up. "Robin was published in the Detroit Free Press." She focuses on her mom, awaiting her response. "He criticized University of Michigan for the way they treat their professional athletes. All this mandatory practice and workouts leaves little room for studying."

Ava, to her credit, takes interest in this, and praises her son. It surprises Regina, at first, how supportive his mother is. She misjudged Ava, it seems. She may be flighty, and a bit insensitive, but she does seem to care about her son and his happiness.

Walter praises her for her children and their attendance at two top schools, and Ava passes the compliment back to her children, saying they did the work. But when she says they owe part of Robin's success to his prep school in the U.K., things grow tense as it is clear Robin disagrees.

"I want to go to Georgetown too," Mary Margaret pipes up, swaying the conversation into a safe zone. "Or maybe William and Mary… I don't know!"

They talk about the differences in college campuses, and things grow comfortable and warm. Emma navigates around Walter's attention-seeking, boisterous comments, so there's actually a conversation instead of a long monologue by some pretentious asshole.

And Regina finds she _likes_ this holiday, where there are no underhanded comments about how much food she's put on her plate, no passive aggressive swipes made between her mother and miserable stepfather, no stressful questions about her five and ten year plans. No lectures about all her failings over the past day, week, month, or year.

She just feels light and free.

Until the moment her phone buzzes and she makes the mistake of checking the new email she had just recovers.

It's from Mother.

Regina didn't attend the Mills Thanksgiving, but it seems Cora brought their Thanksgiving to her.

It's rude, absolutely (Mother would be appalled), but she reads pieces of the long winded note right there at the dinner table before putting the phone down, face down as if it were on fire.

She tries to get back into it, to engage in the conversation. Mary Margaret is whining about something, and Emma is trying to assure her things will be okay, and then there's Robin adding a few words that seems to pick up the mood... but it is all background noise. Her ears are still ringing as she hears the words from that email in her mother's voice: _I am so disappointed,_ and _mediocrity and disrespect._

She tries to shake off the oppressive weight of her shame and guilt. But she can't, and when Emma follows Mary Margaret to her room to help her with a homework issue, Regina sees the perfect segue to ask to be excused, for a moment.

"I just… something urgent came up, I'm sorry," she explains. But Ava waves it off, tells her she understands, and to take her time.

 

.::.

 

_Regina:_

_I had hoped you would see reason and I would find you here, on Thanksgiving morning, where you belong.  
_ _Instead it seems you are intent on disrespecting us, as you always have. Your absence was noted by many of my colleagues._

Of course. Cora is upset because her absence in Boston had embarrassed her. Not because she missed Regina, of course not.

_I heard about all the grateful college children and how they journeyed back home to spend this holiday with their family, and I can think is, "What did I do wrong?" How have I failed you, Regina, that you would behave in this manner?  
_ _I am beginning to worry this school is not the right environment for you. I contacted the college yesterday to inquire about your grades. I know about the test. An 82%, and it wasn't even an exam that was curved. Is this what my money is going towards? Mediocrity and disrespect?  
_ _I worry that I should have to cut off funding for college next semester. You've clearly taken your education for granted and abandoned your family. Why shouldn't we abandon you?  
_ _I am so disappointed. Your father would have been so disappointed that I'm almost glad he's not alive to see this display._

She knows Cora well enough to know when she's in threat mode. And this is just that, a bunch of mostly empty threats to make Regina just scared enough to call and apologize, to kiss the proverbial ring and let Cora believe she's still controlling her. And Regina doesn't mind playing the role of the remorseful daughter. There is probably something Cora wants, her attendance at some work event maybe, some person in DC she wants her to meet, or product she wants her to endorse, something…

So Regina can deal with everything in this letter. All the swipes and all the threats. She can handle it all, except that last sentence. That's the reason she's fighting tears now, the reason her heart is pounding hard and heavy in her chest.

Her mother does _not_ get to disrespect her father's memory that way. She doesn't get to use him like a pawn in whatever guilt scheme she's worked up this time.

It's not fair.

Daddy would be proud, she tells herself. He _would_ be, he would understand, he'd tell her everything was going to be just fine, in that soothing voice he always used when she was hurting. He _wouldn't_ be disappointed, he would —

She hears him, before she sees him. He's walking in these quick, heavy steps as if he's _trying_ to let her know that he's approaching.

"Did Emma send you to cheer me up?" she asks. "Because you should know I don't respond well to that sort of thing."

"No, nothing like that. Emma is still off with Mary Margaret, trying to fix that literature assignment she's struggling with. You lot left me with my mother and that... _man_. I suddenly lost my appetite."

She manages a little smile and an apology, but Robin waves it off and takes a seat next to her. "How are you holding up?" he asks tenderly. She doesn't expect the concern she feels radiating from him, the softness in his voice. She doesn't expect to _want_ to share with him the way she does.

Still, she fights the urge and turns to him, tries to make herself look as poised and collected as possible. "I'm fine, why are you asking?"

He breathes out a little chuckle. "So are you going to tell me what's in that email you keep staring at?"

"What email?" she asks innocently.

"The one that you glanced at during dinner that had you looking pale and sick. The one you've read at least twice sitting here in my living room. And frankly since it is clearly upsetting you, it's two times too many."

She chews her bottom lip. "I think you're paying far too much attention to me. Stalker."

"I think, deep down, you actually do want to talk about whatever's in there."

"What makes you think you know me so well?" she asks defensively.

"Well, I've spent a whole afternoon talking with you. And I'd imagine if I were wrong, you would have said something to completely crush my ego by now, something that would have sent me whimpering away with my tail between my legs." He winks at her and she cannot help but laugh and shake her head.

"True," she concedes.

"Should I read it?" he asks, reaching carefully for her phone.

She finds she truly does want to talk to someone about it. And Emma has heard enough about Cora for a lifetime, maybe Robin would help…

"I'm not stopping you," she says with a sigh, letting him take the phone from her lap. She adds a quick, "Don't read it out loud. I don't think I can relive that letter a fourth time."

He nods and reads. She expects some incredulous gasping, some verbal reaction as he reads. But there is none of that, just silence as he takes in every word Cora wrote.

"Well then," Robin says, handing her back her phone. "Your mother's an awful bitch, isn't she?"

Regina snorts in laughter, covering her mouth quickly in embarrassment. And then she shrugs, trying to make light of the entire thing. "It's all par for the course, except for the part about my dad…"

"Ungodly cruel. And untrue, you know."

She shrugs. "I don't think he would be too pleased that I've chosen not to spend the holidays with family. He… he was always very into family. And holidays for that matter." She feels that lump in her throat growing, edging up, and soon she will be too choked up to speak.

If Robin can sense the tears are coming, he ignores it. And that makes it a bit less mortifying. "If you don't mind my asking, how long ago did he pass?"

Tears well in her eyes, and she tries to smile through them as she swallows thickly. She wipes at the tears, this is so ridiculous. "He died six years ago. A heart attack, at his age… there were no signs. He was always a healthy man… I've no idea…"

She takes in a shaky breath and turns to focus her eyes on her lap for a moment. And when she feels an arm around her, she leans into the touch.

This is ridiculous.

She barely knows him.

And he's… if everything Emma told her is true he's definitely not the one to open up to, he's only interested in one thing and it's _not_ her feelings or sordid history with her family.

And yet, she finds she doesn't want to move away just yet.

"My mother knows how hard I took his death," she says, her voice staying strong and even. "So that was a particularly low blow."

"She must have gone there for a reason," Robin retorts. "Whatever she's hoping to gain from that letter, don't let her have it, yeah?"

It's somehow exactly what she needs to hear.

"She wants an apology. And some groveling. And probably a favor."

"Then give her none of that. Don't let her think this behavior can be rewarded. Do you think she'd really stop paying for a prestigious university such as Georgetown?"

Well, no, no she wouldn't. "No, she'd never be able to suffer the embarrassment of her daughter dropping out of Georgetown. Not when she has friends with ivy league schools to compete with."

"See? It's all a load of shite. So don't let her win."

"That seems to be your motto," Regina responds with a smile. "Don't let the boy who broke my heart win, don't let my mom win…"

"I hate to lose," Robin acknowledges. "Sometimes fear of losing is the only thing that keeps me going. Maybe it's not the healthiest thing in the world, but it's got me this far..."

It sounds so familiar, like something she's said herself. She doesn't answer him, just stares back at him, smiles and nods.

There are no words then, as she lets herself lean against him, as she struggles to quiet her screaming mind. Robin is somehow soft and warm, but solid and strong at the same time, and it feels nice to let herself lean into his touch. Then everything seems to go still and sweet. The hand on her back starts to rub little soothing patterns over her shoulder blades, down her spine…

It feels so good, and with every stroke she feels her anger at her mother lessening, the guilt and pain washing away.

Her mind starts to wander as he touches, to think about how those hands would feel on other, more sensitive places. She loses herself for a second, forgets where she is, and who he is. Until a particularly tantalizing pass of his hand has her letting out a satisfied sigh.

"Robin?" she asks softly, looking into his eyes.

"Yes?" he asks. His eyes are on her lips as his tongue peels out to wipe at his own. Robin leans in closer, his Adam's apple bobs and she feels his breath on her cheek…

He's close enough that she would only have to tilt her head and move in an inch or two and their lips would be touching.

"Don't tell your sisters about this." It's a cold bucket of water on the moment, shatters them both back down to reality.

Robin widens the distance between them to something more acceptable and clears his throat. "Right, will do."

It strikes her just then that he may think she's talking about the impromptu back rub and the obvious tension between them, but she's not ready to acknowledge that yet, so she clarifies. "I just... don't want them to worry. And Emma has heard enough stories about Cora to last a lifetime. I can handle this without their shoulders to cry on. Okay?"

Robin smiles, wetting his lips with his tongue again. She follows the movement, unable to help herself. "There's no shame in sharing your frustrations with friends, Regina. We all need someone to—"

"I know. But I've talked about it. With you. I just don't want to rehash it with anyone. Promise me you won't discuss it?"

"I promise," he says, drawing back his hand to cross his heart dramatically. She rolls her eyes, unamused, and he must see her annoyance, because something in him changes. He places that hand on her knee, and his expression goes solemn. "Seriously, Regina. You can trust me. And if you need to talk more to someone who isn't Emma…" He takes her phone and adds in his number quickly. "I'm always here to listen when it comes to family drama, yeah?"

"Thank you," she says, sincerely. It's startling now, feeling this zing of electricity when she looks into his eyes, and oh god, this was a bad idea. She's not just attracted to him anymore. She _likes_ him, and this is all a mess. "I'm glad I can trust you. And nice try," she grabs the hand that's on her knee playfully and moves it off her, "but that move isn't going to work."

They both know he didn't offer the touch in attempts to make a pass at her. It is more than something so self-serving, it _means_ something, though it's something they aren't ready to acknowledge.

So when he draws his hand back and whispers a playful (though disingenuous) "Worth a shot", she's grateful he decided to make light of an all-too-serious moment.

She goes back to the table first, and Robin joins her a few minutes later, making up some story about taking a phone call from a friend.

Emma looks suspicious, but says nothing.

.:R&R:.

He had not been looking forward to this day at all, but all in all, he's had a great time. And much of it is due to the girl he swore up and down he would not be interested in. To Regina.

He knows why Emma was so nervous, of course. She's exactly his type. Dark eyes and hair, olive skin, slim but curvy in all the right places…

But she's also witty, she's _quick,_ she doesn't put up with his bullshit, and apparently he appreciates that quite a bit. She's got a mean sense of humor. And when she wants to, she can be adorably sweet.

It's a shame, of course, because nothing can happen. He did promise Emma he'd stay away, and he intends to keep his promises now.

He pours himself an after-dinner drink of whiskey. It's more than a generous pour, but hell, he's legal to drink in England, so he supposes he has the right to get good and buzzed at dear old mum's house.

The kitchen is empty, with mother and this Walter fellow in the family room, talking by the fireplace in hushed tones, and Emma, Mary Margaret, and Regina upstairs, probably chatting about god knows what, or watching some movie…

What type of movies does Regina like, he wonders?

She doesn't seem much for romantic comedies. But he wouldn't place her in the horror genre, either. She has a sense of humor, perhaps something quick and quirky, like The Royal Tenenbaums, or Clue, or…

"Pour me a glass of that," Emma says, taking a seat at the bar stool on the end of the island.

Robin does as he's told, filling it first with ice, then pouring a small amount into the glass. Emma doesn't argue with the weakness of the drink, she just takes it and sips.

"Where's Regina?" he asks innocently.

"Taking a shower. Mary Margaret is having boy trouble again, she's drafting another one of those letters she will never send, just to get it out of her system."

Robin laughs and grimaces, sharing a knowing look with Emma.

"What were you and Regina talking about earlier?" The sudden shift in the conversation startles him a bit, but Emma looks intent, focused on getting an answer.

"When?" Robin asks innocently.

"You two went off together in the middle of dinner and don't think I didn't pick up on it. So what were you talking about?"

"Now, that is none of your business," Robin teases.

"You didn't try and pick her up, did you?" Emma groans.

"Now, now, a gentleman never kisses and tells," he chides.

Emma knows he's kidding, and though she tries to look unamused, she doesn't turn her head in time to hide the smirk that overtakes her face. "Very funny. But I'm serious, Robin, I've had friends... but never a friend like _this._ And you know it's hard for me to get close to people. So seriously lay off her, because if you end up leading her on and hurting her it will ruin things between us. And I'd hate that because I just... I feel so connected to her. It's like she's my soulmate, okay?"

He raises his eyebrows and wags them at her teasingly. "Maybe she's _mine_."

"Please, you just want to fuck her," Emma groans.

He shakes his head in earnest, because it's not all that.

"Oh, come on. I saw the way you looked at her when you first saw her. If you were a cartoon your jaw would have dropped to the floor, eyeballs bugged out of your sockets, and you would have made that _ah-woo-gah!_ sound."

He laughs, and well, she has a point. "She's… very pretty."

Emma rolls her eyes.

"Look, when I first met her I had just intended on teasing you, since you seemed so worried about us ending up together. Yes, she's stunning, and that caught me off guard, but I was truly only trying to get a rise out of you."

"So you're going to leave her alone?"

"I can see why you like her. She's witty, clever, has an excellent sense of humor… and she's brave and strong. Emma, I wouldn't do anything to push Regina away from you, okay?"

Emma looks at him skeptically. "Oh my god — you actually… you have a _crush_ on her?"

"Crushes are for middle school boys. I'm a man."

"That's debatable. And for fuck's sake just tell me what you two were talking about."

"None of your business, nosy."

"Well it must have been something serious. You're walking around with that same expression on your face that you had when you won those front row tickets to Oasis."

He smiles and shakes his head. Busted, it seems. When did he become so transparent. "I like her," he admits, "she's interesting. And we exchanged numbers, just so you know, but she's with someone, and I'm not going to be the guy to get in the middle of all that. We will just be friends."

"She's not _with_ Graham. And please, you guys have been eye fucking each other from the moment you met," Emma groans.

"Oh, has she?" Robin asks, letting a proud smirk drift across his face. Emma freezes, gives that look she does when she's been caught. She meant it, it seems. Regina really had been eyeing him. "Honestly, I didn't think she was interested, but now that you say that…"

"Robb- _i_ _nnnn_ …"

"Just kidding," he promises, "and I've apologized for what happened with Lily like a dozen times, you have to get over that. I was young."

"You've never apologized to Mary Margaret for Marian," Emma reminds.

"That was complicated. There were real feelings there. I can't regret that. And we aren't on bad terms, Marian and I."

"Mary still lost a friend."

"I don't think Marian was the friend to Mary Margaret she believes she was. She was four years older than her. She was a mentor, more than anything. And Mary looked up to her, sure, but she wasn't close to her the way you and Regina are. Otherwise I'm sure the friendship would have survived our relationship."

He's made a good point and it pains Emma to admit it, but admit it she does with a grunt and another swallow of whiskey.

"Well, Regina has been through a lot. I don't want her to get hurt again. And if my brother was the reason…"

He can't help but tease poor Emma, so he asks, "Why aren't you afraid that she will hurt me? She wanders in here in that tight little skirt with those boots and that scoop neck shirt, and then she goes and starts cooking for us, and just about breaks my heart by shutting down all my little jokes —"

"Shut _up_ Robin," Emma says with a groan. But she's smiling at him, and it's clear she understands this is all in jest. "If that's all, I'm going back upstairs. It's good to see you again. I miss you, you know? It's weird, our whole childhood I only saw you once or twice a year, but now that we're older it feels like forever when it's been a few months. We should visit more."

"We should," Robin agrees. And when she starts to walk back upstairs he calls out to her. "And… Em?" She spins around, asks a quiet little _Hmm?_ that makes him smile. "I promise not to hurt her," he says, and something tells him that _this_ is a promise he can easily keep.

And keep it he does, for the most part. He keeps that promise through heartfelt talks and cuddles and secret kisses that always are supposed to be meaningless but never are. He keeps the promise as he finally convinces her to date him, and later, as he marries her and has a child with her, he still keeps that promise.

He does break that promise, one dark and cold Thanksgiving many years in the future. But he makes up for it, in so many ways that even Emma forgives him.


	5. Chapter 5

She loves moments like these. Moments when their gasping pants, those struggles to catch their breath, meld together in some sort of aftersex serenade. Her limbs feel boneless and pliant, and there's this sense of weightlessness as she comes down from her high.

 _He_ is next to her. Not just next to her, but all around her, like he always is after his climax. It never fails, no matter where they are, how much time they have, what position they are in…

After they finish he always pulls her close, shifts so he can take her in his arms, and presses these little chaste pecks into her hair and forehead.

And that's not supposed to be what _this_ is about, but she absolutely, positively _loves_ it.

"That was amazing," she rasps, her throat dry and sore from overuse.

"As it always is with you," Robin replies, popping a kiss to her lips as a perfect period to the sentence.

She's smiles feeling, well, proud. Because it always _is_ wonderful when they are together, isn't it?

And he's hardly inexperienced but he's told her she's the best he's ever had time and again, and from the way he is looking at her now, she believes him.

"I missed you all week," Regina admits. "I wanted you so bad on Thursday.. _."_

"Oh god don't bring that up," Robin groans, "I'll never forgive Emma, why wouldn't she give you a damn moment alone?"

Regina sighs and snuggles into him. "Mm, things are going well with Neal and she's excited. But, yes, I still wish we had our stolen moments on the way to the bathrooms, especially when you were blowing up my phone with those texts." She raises her eyebrows at him accusatorily. "That was unfair."

"That dress was unfair," he counters, nuzzling into her neck and planting a kiss there. "You are so fucking gorgeous, I can't help myself around you."

Whenever he says things like that, her heart skips a beat. This isn't anything. He's her dirty little secret, and she's his. She's not _supposed_ to feel like this. This is just a way to mutually destress. A friendly exchange of orgasms, and that's it. It can't lead anywhere else.

"I guess I'm the only one with self-control in this relationship," she quips. But when his eyes go wide, and he smirks at her in this adoring way, she realizes what she just said. The word 'relationship _'_ makes her blush, that wasn't what she meant, that's not… "Err, I didn't mean _relationship_ like—"

But his voice is soft and warm as he pulls her close. "Regina, love, how much longer are you going to make me wait?"

It throws her off, because he can't be asking what she thinks he's asking, can he? They discussed this, they agreed, it can't lead anywhere…

She turns to face him, tangling her legs in his, and bites her lip. "Oh, I don't think I've made you wait at all. And if you're asking how long I'll make you wait for _another_ round—"

"Not that." He smoothes a hand down her arm from shoulder down to her wrist until he's threading his fingers in hers. "This. When are you going to let us be together for real?"

"I…" Her mind goes blank, panic spreads over her body. There are no words, she's still in the afterglow, and he's dropped this on her. She swallows the lump in her chest down and then reminds him, "that's not what this is."

"It is for me," he says simply, "It's always been what this is, and I've not been entirely honest with you, but that ends now."

Her throat goes dry and her mind is reeling. This isn't what she expected when she snuck into his apartment this afternoon. Technically she had asked Robin if he wanted grab a quick bite to eat, but they both knew what would happen when she showed up to his place, freshly waxed and flushed with a need to be touched. She just signed up for a quick little afternoon fuck and cuddle.

She didn't expect to talk about the feelings they have both been dancing around for… years, if she's being honest with herself.

"I…" she starts, swallowing heavily. "We agreed that this was just… meaningless. A no strings attached type of activity..."

"You're right. We did. But it was never meaningless to me, and I can't do this anymore. I don't want to watch you fall in love with another man and leave this. I want _us_ to be real." He bites his lip and adds, "Seeing you with Eric last week was pure torture. I knew I had no right but the moment i heard about it I just…"

She winces, thinking of that day. Robin had been visiting Emma when she was getting ready. And Emma just dropped that she had a date, like it was nothing. She knew she sensed something in the way he looked at her, as she did a wardrobe change, as she did her makeup. That sweet, soft little look that didn't look like jealousy, so she ignored. But now she's placed it. It was _fear,_ not jealousy. He was afraid of losing her. "I don't… you know I don't do relationships. And nothing happened with Eric anyway, like I told you—"

"I know, and you have no idea how relieved I was to hear that. But I saw you all dressed up to see him, looking all sexy and sweet, and I thought to myself, who could help but fall for you? And I know you said you don't do relationships, but I can't help but worry that it's only a matter of time, and I can't, Regina, I can't just sit back and wait for someone to take you from me. Not without letting you know how I feel, at least."

And she knows what it means, because it really is awful to watch Robin talk to other girls. Every time Regina sees him near some cute co-ed, she sits back wondering if _she_ is the one, the person that will take him away from her forever. And each time this happens her heart burns with a possessiveness she has no right to feel. She really doesn't want to lose him, but she tells herself to fight it, to calm down, because she has no right to think this way.

"It's not exactly easy for me, either, you know. That girl I saw you with yesterday— " She speaks in only a whisper, grateful when Robin interrupts her with a _let me explain._

"That's Jack, or Jacqueline, technically. We hooked up at Ruby's party a few months ago, and it was shit. Or it wasn't, it was fine, but it was nothing compared to how it is with you so I stopped it after just a bit of kissing and touching over clothes. And it only got that far because I saw you talking to Jefferson, and I just thought I had to stop thinking of us… as a couple. She's interested, and I am _not_ and that's exactly what I told her yesterday _._ I haven't been with anyone since that night, and I've no desire to. You're so special to me, the thought of being with anyone else…" He shakes his head, as if he were talking about downing a bottle of castor oil. "I'd choose you over anyone in this world, it's not fair to start up something with someone else."

"I didn't know," she whispers, because she didn't, she really didn't. "I'd see you with others and you seemed so comfortable, so I just assumed—"

"But you have to know how I feel about you," he presses, "you're the first person I want to talk to each morning, the first I come to for advice, when I have good news you're the first person I want to share it with." He pulls her in closer, and she's suddenly embarrassed of how loud her heart is pounding. "You know I think you're the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen," (she laughs in disbelief) "I'm _serious,_ you've no idea how fucking perfect you are for me, but I don't want you to think it's all about looks. It's not. I love your heart," he dips down to kiss her chest, and that's when the tears she's been fighting break through, and her vision goes blurry. "I can't imagine my life without you. I can't imagine going a _day_ in my life without spending a part of it with you."

He kisses her forehead, looking at her so warmly, so lovingly. She feels the same, of course she does. But dating him is so risky. It could cost her the most important friendship in her life — friendships, actually, she could lose Emma, and Mary Margaret, and _fuck_ if things go poorly, she could lose _Robin,_ and that's absolutely terrifying.

"Robin," she breathes. She scratches fingers through the scruff on his jawline. when her palm passes close to his lips, he tilts his head to plant a quick peck there.

"I don't want you to think I don't love this, Regina, because I do. I love fucking you. I love holding you like this, I love being there for you as a friend in public, and being for you _here_ in private. I even like the sneaking around. I like having a little secret with you. But it's not enough." He must catch the hitch in her breath, and combs his fingers through her hair gently as if to soothe. "If it's all you want, I'll live, I'll take this over nothing, over not having you in my life. And I'll wait, if you want me to wait. For as long it takes. But this is not all I want."

The tears that had filled her eyes finally fall as she blinks. "Robin, I promised Emma—"

"Yes and so did I. But that was nearly four years ago. Since then you've become everything to me, and I don't care about broken promises. I just want you."

"If we do this," her voice cracks, and the sound of the sheer vulnerability laced in her voice would embarrass her, if it were anyone other than Robin here. But she's never worried about sounding weak in front of him. Not since the moment they met. "If we actually _date,_ and it goes poorly—"

"It won't."

It's absurd how sure he sounds, as if he's stating some fact. Gravity exists, the earth spins on its axis, and Robin and Regina can date without it ending poorly. He's such an optimist, all the time. But she is not. And she has so much to lose. So she shakes her head and squeezes her eyes tight and protests. "You can't know that, Robin, it could, and if it does, I'll lose _all_ of you, I'll lose Mary Margaret, Emma, and you. I just don't think I could take that, I—"

He's kissing away her tears, all soft and sweet. He then brings those tear stained lips to hers, for a final smooch. "You'll never lose me, ever. There's nothing you could do to change the way I feel about you. So put that out of your mind. Emma will be upset — at me more than you, mind you. But she'll get over it. And quite frankly I'm positive you won't lose Emma either. She loves you as much as she loves me. And she wants us to be happy, and she's had to have known things were heading in this direction. She's not blind. Far from it, actually."

She purses her lips and considers his words. Emma and Robin are family, and though Emma has told her, so many times, that she thinks of her as a sister, as a missing piece of the puzzle, she doesn't believe for a second she'd choose her over blood. So she takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "It's a big risk."

"Mmhm, it is. I want to take it, though." He sighs and rubs a thumb over her tear stained cheekbone. The touch sends shivers down her spine as he rubs lightly over damp skin. "What we have is great, isn't it? I want to feel like this forever. With you."

She wants that too. But it's still taking a huge leap off a steep cliff, and there's so many unknowns. "What if part of the reason this is so good is _because_ it's a secret? What if once the secret is out, things become stale, and boring, and—"

"It won't be."

"What makes you so confident?"

"Because I'm in love with you, Regina." He smiles, eyes focused on hers.

It takes her aback, has her swallowing a gasp in the back of her throat. She always thought someone saying sue this to her would be terrifying, but she's not scared at all. She's… giddy. She's almost drunk on emotion, warm thoughts flooding her mind and setting her afloat.

She closes her eyes for a second, and swallows a little laugh. And then she doesn't fight the wide smile that spreads across her face. "You are?" She asks, still reeling.

"Mhm," he answers, reaching out to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.

Robin loves her. The man who can sense when she's upset by the _tone_ of her _text message,_ and is always there to lend a helpful ear when he does. The man who has picked her up from parties that turned sour, without a word of judgment. The man who remembers how hard her father's birthday is every year, who orders from her favorite chinese restaurant and lets her pick whatever movie she wants, strokes her hair as she cries on his lap… god, of course he loves her, it's so obvious now.

"So you see, I am serious about us. You're the best for me, I'm sure of it. I've never been more sure if anything in my life." Robin frowns, and she sees a glimmer of vulnerability. "I'm not expecting that you feel the same, not yet anyway. I just want you to give me a chance to love you in the open. And if there's any chance you feel like you could—"

She kisses him, deeply, just to shut him up, and to give her racing heart time to slow, if only just enough to speak. She pours every frantic lovesick memory she's had with him over the past four years. It's a hell of a kiss, passionate, a bit sloppy, warm and familiar but somehow electric with the knowledge that this is the start of something new.

When he pulls out of the kiss, there's a sloppy grin. Does that kiss mean _yes, I will date you, Robin?_

"No," she says coolly, as she runs her fingers through his hair.

He furrows his brow, and then looks at her in what could almost be described as desperation. "Regina, I—"

"That kiss means _I am in love with you, too."_ she interrupts, smiling slyly.

And it catches Robin off guard. She can tell by the the way he draws in a deep breath, the way his eyes widen, and his body goes stiff.

"I've imagined telling you that I love you a thousand times, I don't think I ever let myself believe you'd say it back," he laughs, "I just…"

"I've told you before," she points out. She's said "I love you" to him when she was drunk, she's said it in the middle of sex, she's said it in those exhausted moments before sleep overtakes her.

"As did I," he reminds. He always returned the sentiment, didn't he? And sometimes said it unprompted. Still, she always thought it was polite, or maybe the love of a very close friend. "And as much as I wanted to believe those "I love you"s were real, you had a habit of saying them and then falling into bed with someone else the very next day."

She laughs, but he doesn't. Jefferson was a distraction, and easy person to fool around with when she needed to prove to herself that Robin meant nothing to her. It was stupid, cowardly and she'd say unfair to Jefferson, but he never cared about her anyway.

"I was being a scared idiot. But that's over now," she assures. And then she's kissing him again, kisses that break into smiles.

"I know this is a lot for one afternoon," he sighs, after a few moments have passed. "I won't ask anything of you except this: Please don't be with anyone else. From now on it's just you and me. I can wait to hold your hand in public, to tell the world about us... that can come when _you_ are ready. But for now— "

"No one else. For either of us," she agrees. She kisses his lips, and then the apple of his cheeks. It's only then, when she tastes the salty wetness of his tears, that she realizes she's not the only one who has shed tears over this. And Robin doesn't cry — he never does. It throws her off, has her terrified as she asks, "are you okay?"

He nods, and she watches his face flush red. "I've been wanting to talk to you about this for….years, honestly. It's a bit overwhelming. It finally happened, and I can breathe again."

Oh. Happy tears then. A warm relief floods her as she sighs contently and presses close against him.

"I love you," she says again, just because she can say it now, without the anxiety and fear she would have every time the words slipped out before.

"I love you too," he says, voice soft and cracking. "very much."

"I know," she says with a smile. "That's why you are going to be the one to tell Emma about us."

He laughs, holds her close, but denies her the request. "We'll do it together. When the time is right."

"Mm," she agreed. "It's all about timing."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was written for OQ Prompt Party: Prompt: Sunday Morning Breakfast

It's 8:15 AM on a Sunday morning, and she should  _ not  _ be up.

Sundays should be lazy and uneventful, the quiet before the storm of the week.

But today, Neal is appearing on  _ Meet the Press  _ , discussing the call for Senator Feingold to resign in the wake of evidence of accepting bribes from a local chemical plant. And that is why Regina and her friends are gathered around bagels, cream cheese, an odd assortment of pastries, and boxes of dunkin donuts coffee while MSNBC plays on Robin's big screen TV.

Regina's proud of Neal, she really is. His sudden interest in  _ anything  _ isn't beer, pizza, or video games is a step up in her book, and she wants to be supportive.

But she's just… not in the mood.

Though in fairness to Neal, this is in large part due to the fact that she has to be in Robin's apartment on a lazy Sunday morning in front of all their friends, and play pretend.

Ever since they confessed their feelings to one another, she finds it harder and harder to act as if they are only friends. She forgets how to behave around him, how to remain friendly without giving away that they are in love. And Robin seems to have the same problem. He reaches out for her at times, only to second guess the action and withdraw his hand before he makes contact. Robin very nearly kissed her 'hello' last week, and she swears Emma noticed, though she hasn't mentioned it.

They really need to break the news to everyone, but Regina has requested they wait until after she and Emma graduate.

They have enough stress right now.

So they are delaying things for just a few weeks, and it wouldn't be as difficult if they did not have so many functions where they have to be in the same room as Emma.

It would maybe be easier if Robin wasn't determined to look and smell so irresistible every time she has to see him. But he's always there, teasing her.

He's freshly showered and smells like soap and deodorant. The scruff on his face is a bit thicker than normal, his hair slightly messed, as if he didn't have much time and just combed gel quickly through it.

And he's wearing this jet black tee shirt that shouldn't look as good as it does, with the jeans she really likes. He's joking about god knows what with Killian over in the kitchen now, and he's smiling, dimples on full display.

"Regina? Earth to Regina…"

_ Shit.  _  Emma gives her a look of pure annoyance, and it's only then that Regina realizes she was daydreaming in midconversation.

"Sorry, Em. It's early and I'm tired. What were you saying?"

Emma rolls her eyes. "I was saying we should all plan a trip to the beach after graduation. Before real life officially starts."

Thoughts of Robin shirtless and gorgeous have her heating up.  _  God  _ , don't go there in front of his sister. By the time this beach trip happens Emma may know about them, making the trip incredibly awkward.

"That sounds fun." Regina tries to sound enthused. She fails. Emma raises an eyebrow but doesn't argue with her, only asks if she needs another mimosa.

"Sure," Regina starts, but then Robin makes his way over and puts an arm around Emma's shoulder.

"Excited about Neal?" he asks her playfully. "This is quite a big deal, especially someone our age."

"Yeah…" Emma says with a smile. "Didn't think he would end up here anytime soon."

"Now will he be wearing one of those ironic tee shirts on camera? Because I don't think I've seen him in else."

"He has a work wardrobe now," Emma laughs. "Polos, button downs, khakis...he's a regular sellout."

"Mm," Robin says. He's no longer looking at her sister. His eyes are on  _ her,  _ and from the way his eyes are darting over her form, he isn't thinking about Neal and his clothes at all.

Good. She didn't wear jeans this tight for her health. And the red halter top is new, specifically worn to rile him up a bit.

If she has to be up this early she might as well have a little fun, right?

"Well then," Emma says sarcastically after a few moments of silence. "Great conversation, bro. I'm getting another mimosa. You two should get some coffee, you both seem totally out of it."

She only walks a few feet away, from the living room to the kitchen, but thanks to the steady hum of the television and the murmured conversations of their friends, she's doesn't hear Robin rasp  _ You look incredible  _ into Regina's ear.

"You too," she whispers back.

"We have twenty minutes until Neal's show," Robin's voice is low and heated, "do you think anyone would notice if we had a quick fuck in my bedroom?"

Even though his suggestion is completely ridiculous, her thighs tense at the thought. God, that would be amazing.

She snorts and rolls her eyes. "There are only nine people here. So yes, I think people may notice."

He frowns and sighs. "Might be worth the risk," he shrugs.

"Worth the risk of Emma killing us? You must have a lot of confidence in your abilities…" she flirts back.

"Oh I do. I'll take you from behind like you like," he whispers, "after i strip those jeans off you, sink down to my knees, and—"

"God Robin, not now," she breathes, suddenly aware they are having a very private conversation with friends around them who may notice how close they are at any moment.

"Alright, but  _ fuck,  _ Regina, I hate waiting for you," he sighs. And she knows he doesn't just mean this morning. They've been waiting for years for one another already, but these last few weeks have been torture.

She squeezes his hand and tilts her head sympathetically, conveying all the apologies she can in a look.

"Soon," she murmurs, and he shakes his head and smiles, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

 

.::.

 

She tries to pay attention to Neal's segment, and to the conversation that follows  _ about  _ Neal's segment.

She really does. But Robin keeps sending her texts. Short little things like  _ Need you  _ , and, after she bends down to pick up Emma's fallen earring, a cheeky little  _ That was nice  _ that lets her know he was enjoying her ass during the action.

When he excuses himself to refill his drink, a longer text comes in telling her exactly what he wants to do to her.

She winds up in Robin's bathroom, stripping off her top and rucking down her jeans down to her ankles to take a quick selfie of her lingerie. It's a good shot — if you look into the mirror behind you you can see her ass, and she placed her free hand strategically near the apex of her thighs, just suggestive enough to be sexy rather than raunchy.

She throws her clothes on quickly and sends Robin the picture. She plays innocent, cuddles up to Emma and congratulates her on her boyfriend's success. And then she hears Robin nearly choke, sputtering and coughing loudly as he tries to regain his composure.

"Ya'alright mate?" Killian asks. He sounds genuinely concerned.

"Honestly I'm not sure. I may never recover," Robin laughs between coughs.

A few moments later she gets a simple, short text that takes her by surprise.

_ Fuck I love you _

She had expected something dirty, or a lecture about how she shouldn't tease him in front of his family. She never expected  _ that.  _ And it has her grinning like an idiot.

 

.::.

 

Will is the first to leave. "Gotta be there for the afternoon shift at the bar today," he groans. "Sunday after-brunch… i'll make shit, but they did give me Friday and Saturday night so I can't complain."

John leaves next. He's getting his master's degree soon, but his thesis is giving him issues.

And Robin is now without either of his roommates. She exchanges a look with him.

And then a text pops up on her phone.

_ I am going to fuck you right on this kitchen table. _

She shivers, looks back at him and bites her lip.

When is everyone going to leave?

Emma is supposed to meet Neal soon — the nonprofit he works for is viewing the segment and then having a quick strategy meeting… followed by a party of sorts.

Regina would have thought she would have rushed over right away, but she seems to be in no hurry, chatting with Ruby and Mary about whatever inane thing is on her mind.

People continue to file out, but Emma stays. Regina officially gives up all hope of having a moment alone with Robin today, not when Emma seems to be clinging to her.

"Wanna get going?" Emma asks Regina right after Killian finally leaves ( "going to nap off all those mimosas").

"Yeah," Regina says, "you're still going to Neal's right?"

"Yep. Weren't you going to get a mani pedi? The salon is right by Neal's work. You and I can split a cab."

_ Fuck. _

"Sounds good," Regina says, trying not to sound too disappointed.

Robin, for his part, visibly scowls at the suggestion.

He's cute when he's sexually frustrated.

And speaking of sexually frustrated, hours of dirty chats and no release has her aching to be touched. Her body has gone over-sensitive, to the point where the slight friction caused by walking is enough to work her up to a breaking point. Christ this is going to be the  _ most  _ uncomfortable mani pedi she has ever had, trying to relax when she knows Robin is alone in his apartment...probably jerking off to the thought of them…

It's that thought that crumbles the last of her resolve. Fuck it, she's not getting in that cab.

"Shit," Regina mutters as she pretends to search her purse. "I left my wallet back at home."

"Really?" Emma says, "do you want me to go back with you and get it?"

"No, you're already late and it's a long walk. I'll go and meet you downtown when Neal's thing ends - we can do an early dinner?"

Emma bites her lip, seemingly mulling it over. "I  _ am  _ late. I'd really rather walk back with you, but if you're sure—"

"I am," Regina assures, "go tell Neal congratulations for me."

Emma nods and hugs her goodbye.

And then Regina pretends to walk back to their apartment. But she only walks around the corner of Robin's apartment complex and uses the side entrance as soon as she is out of Emma's eyesight.

 

.::.

 

Regina doesn't knock.

Robin has given her a key, both for the front and side door and the actual apartment door itself, expressly for this purpose. But she finds the door unlocked, and that is how she's able to surprise him.

Robin is moving a chair back from the living room to the kitchen when she enters.

He looks at her  _ that  _ way, that way that makes her feel like she is everything.

And then he's rushing towards her, closing the distance in long strides.

"Oh  _ thank fuck,"  _ he says before cupping the back of her neck and crashing his mouth to hers.

She hums in his mouth, quiet little gasps tell him she needs this just as badly as he does.

He lifts her in his arms, hands holding tightly at her ass as she wraps her legs around him and he walks them to the kitchen area.

"You feel so damn good," he pants. And then he sets her down on the table with a smile.

Right. They are doing this here.

John could come home soon. Will may be sent back from work if it's an exceptionally light afternoon… and then there's the windows - this apartment has great natural light, but Robin never bothered to get curtains, and their neighbors could always catch a show. It's that, that slight fear of getting caught that chases away her shyness and pumps her full of sex-addled adrenaline. She grabs the hem of his shirt and tugs at it, sharing sloppy, hungry kisses as she lifts the shirt up and over his head.

He flashes her that goofy smile when she runs a hand over well-defined pectoral muscles, lets her kiss the bare skin of his chest, lick and swirl around the dips and ridges she loves. And then it appears he grows jealous that she is enjoying him shirtless when she is fully clothed, because starts looking for a way to get her halter top off.

She takes pity on him after a while and moves his hands to the side zipper with a smile that splits the frantic kissing they've been doing.

"Thank you," he rasps, "need this off you immediately."

He nuzzles into the deep vee of her halter top, planting wet sucking kisses on the top of her breasts in a way that stokes the fire of her desire, has her even more desperate for him.

"You've been driving me crazy all morning." Robin lifts her top up and over her body and then lets out this deep, guttural moan as his eyes go dark and hungry. "You are so fucking gorgeous, do you know that?"

Sometimes those words can kill the mood, because she doesn't really feel  _ gorgeous,  _ or  _ perfect  _ or any of the adjectives he uses to describe her.

But she's ungodly needy for him and far too gone for her self doubts to take over. So she just murmurs a  _ shut up  _ and kisses the life out of him as her fingers find their way to his belt buckle, nimbly undoing a belt she now knows well.

He breaks the kiss and steps back just as she slides the strip of leather off. He's pausing to admire her, a move he's grown quite fond of recently.

She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip and watches his face as he strokes two gentle-but-firm hands over her body, from shoulders, over lace covered breasts (he thumbs her hardened nipples just thought to tease, to make her clit throb) and down to her stomach.

He has this expression on his face that she might confuse for 'awestruck' if she didn't know better, if she didn't know how many times he's seen her body and how accustomed he is to it, maybe. But whatever the look is, it's  _ hot,  _ sends a shiver down her spine and has her looping fingers through his belt loops and pulling him close to her. She kisses him hard and passionate. A hand drifts to his ass, gropes greedily, another wraps around his neck to anchor him close to her. He's hard and pushed right between her thighs, and he moans as she rubs against him, and god that's it, she needs to feel him  _ now,  _ she—

"I FUCKING KNEW IT!"

The door slams hard and Regina jumps nearly off the kitchen table at the sound, spinning in time to catch a red faced Emma stalking towards them. Regina covers herself on instinct. Maybe Emma has seen it all before, but her partially transparent black lace bra seems a bit more on risque in the early afternoon light of Robin's apartment.

Robin walks towards Emma, putting some much appreciated space between her and Regina.

"You  _ promised,"  _ Emma screams, and it's only then she realizes Emma is pointing a judgmental, angry finger at  _ Robin  _ and not her  _. "  _ I begged you to stay away,  _ so many times,  _ and you  _ told  _ me you wouldn't, you—"

"I couldn't help it—" Robin starts his arms raised in surrender, but he doesn't get a word out before Emma's fist collides with his jaw.

The sound of flesh hitting flesh reverberates in the kitchen, making Regina wince. It's a  _ good  _ hit, has him spinning on his feet and crying out.

"WhatthefuckEm," he moans, holding the side of his face, "coulda knocked a tooth out."

"Couldn't _ help it?"  _ she screams, "Is it really that hard for you to  _ not  _ fuck my friends, to  _ not  _ play with them as toys you can just pick up and throw away, to  _ not  _ hurt them, to just let me have my own life without ruining everything and—"

"I'm in love with her," he cuts her off in slurred speech, "that's not what this is about."

Regina snaps into action, taking the opportunity to slip back into her shirt, so she's no longer sitting on the kitchen table in lingerie.

But Emma just frowns and looks at him skeptically. "In love with her, huh? Whatever. How long have you two been doing this behind my back?"

Robin says nothing, looks at Regina for help.

That's when she turns to Regina herself. "I trusted you. And you  _ know  _ how hard it is for me to trust, and I trusted  _ you,  _ and you fucking lied to me! For how long?"

That's a difficult question. It started as innocent meetings for coffee between classes. It was Regina who suggested they not tell Emma — because she might assume the wrong thing, of course.

But things got flirtatious, as they always did, and those platonic coffee meetups opened the door to everything that was to come.

"Look it was just casual at first," she tries to explain, but Emma snorts and rolls her eyes.

"You wouldn't do this to me if it were  _ just casual  _ ," Emma snarls, "so quit fucking around and tell me how long you two have been sneaking behind my back."

"Longer than we should have been," Robin speaks up, "but this was scary, for both of us, and we needed time to make sure it was...real."

Regina approaches Emma slowly, unshed tears in her eyes.

"Emma I am so, so sorry," she starts, but Emma just shakes her head.

"Save it, I don't need to hear that shit," Emma scoffs. "I thought we were  _ friends,  _ I thought—"

"We  _ are,  _ I would have told you a long time ago but I was scared, okay? I don't want to lose you as a friend either—"

"Pfft,  _ this  _ shows how much you care," Emma mutters, pointing to her topless brother before groaning and collapsing onto the couch, her hands on her temples.

"It  _ does  _ show you how much I care, because I've been fighting  _ this  _ for years — for  _ you,"  _ Regina argues. She's suddenly angry at Emma. They are in love, and it's awkward and frustrating but shouldn't Emma be  _ happy  _ for her, happy she found love? "I wish I had fallen for anyone else, but I'm in love with your stupid brother and—"

Emma turns to Robin and stares daggers at him, as if he did something horribly wrong.

"You  _ promised  _ not to hurt her," she scowls, her eyes narrow and angry.

"That's a promise I don't intend to break," he says with a sincerity that makes her blood run cold. "Emma, I'm not the same person I was at 17. And this is serious. I truly am in love with her."

Emma whimpers, her head in her lap.

She sounds less angry now, more… pained.

"I mean I'd be lying if I said I was entirely surprised," Emma says after what seems like an eternity of silence. "I just figured you two had crushes on one another and flirted around to tease me."

Robin chuckles and sits next to his sister. "Actually we tried very hard to  _ not  _ flirt in front of you."

"Oh for fucks sake. You guys suck at discretion."

Robin bites his lip and shoots Regina a look.

"Well I wouldn't say that," he says carefully. "This happened over a year ago, and we've done a decent job of—"

"A  _ year?"  _ Emma asks incredulously. "Were you  _ ever  _ planning on telling me?"

"We were. After graduation," Regina says quickly. "We didn't want to add to that stress. But once we graduated, we were both going to talk to you together—"

"Ugh,  _ together,"  _ Emma moans. "I mean… look, I'm happy for you."

She looks at Regina and though she looks absolutely sick to her stomach, her voice sounds sincere. "I really am. But we share everything, and now when you have relationship advice you'll be talking about you and my brother, or — oh  _ god  _ — when you've got a good story it's going to be about my  _ brother.  _ Oh no… have some of those stories been about my brother?!"

Regina cringes. "Emma, I'm so—"

"Gross!" Emma says jumping up from her seat. Robin and Regina cannot help but laugh at her.

And a tired smile cracks on Emma's face, before she composes herself and sits down again. "I knew this  _ Mark  _ character sounded suspicious. Was he even real?"

"He's real," Regina sits next to Emma, tentatively putting a hand on her head. When Emma doesn't shrink away, she threads fingers through her blonde locks and strokes her hair softly. "He's in my statistics class. But we've never dated, or had any impromptu hookups in the library."

"Oh god, I forgot about the library story," Emma whines, and Regina winces. Regina was a bit… descriptive with that particular story, wasn't she? And things got mildly kinky, didn't they? Emma looks absolutely horrified as she turns to Robin. "Eww!"

Robin just shrugs and smirks. "I'd say I was sorry, but we both know I'd be lying about that." Emma shudders "But I  _ am  _ sorry for not coming to you first about this. That was cowardly of me. I, uh, didn't know Regina felt the same way until recently. And I didn't want to come to you about this and have you tell me this would never happen."

"Please I knew Regina had a giant crush on you," Emma sighs, darting her eyes over to Regina in exasperation. "I wasn't sure how  _ you  _ felt, because it's not exactly like I've ever known you to be serious with a woman… except I guess for Marian, but even that…"

"Well, I'm serious about this. Very much so." Robin says firmly.

"Does anyone else know?" Emma asks quietly.

"No, you're the first."

Emma nods, and the silence weighs around her for a bit before she takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "I'll kill you if you hurt her, Robin."

"Emma, I can handle myself—" Regina starts, but Robin shakes his head.

"I'm counting on you to do that," Robin says carefully. "Feel free to kick me in the ass anytime you think I need it."

"I'm glad you're both happy," she starts. "And I mean, you do seem stupidly perfect for one another. But Regina?"

"Mm?" Regina asks

"No more of those stories, ok? I'm going to have nightmares for weeks."

Regina doesn't make another promise she can't keep, so instead she just laughs and throws her arms around her.

When Emma hugs her back, she's finally truly feels at peace in the world.

Because now things are real.

She and Robin are  _ real. _

And a new chapter in her life can start.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was writtenf or the #OQPrompt Party and finished for the smut week. I combined both parts into one chapter. :)

She tells herself that she hasn't been _trying_ to avoid Marian. But since she's gotten back together with Robin, they've been… busy. And the first few dinners Mary Margaret invites them to are politely declined in favor of movies and pizza with Roland, or date nights with just one another.

But Marian is still very much a part of Robin's sister's lives, and why wouldn't she be? Marian has known Mary Margaret since she was just a spoiled little freshman in high school. Since Mary Margaret's father nearly bought her onto the varsity cheerleading team. Marian had been kind to her then, taken her under her wing, and Regina supposes that Mary Margaret and Emma are trying to return the favor.

But for over a year Regina has been thinking of Marian as the person who stole her husband, and even if she was wrong — even if it was only one terrible drunken mistake, it still hurts.

And so Regina doesn't want to see Marian, not really.

She confesses this to Robin the third time she declines an invitation to go to an event where Marian will also attend, nervously fidgeting as she finally speaks her mind.

"I'm not saying I _blame_ her, you've been clear it was mutual. And I know she was going through something awful. I also understand there's nothing between you two anymore. But... she still slept with my husband. She still slept with you knowing that we'd barely been separated a month, she still hurt me."

"I understand," he assures, pulling her into a hug. "Can I do anything to make it better?"

"No," she breathes into his neck, wrapping herself around him. "I just need time. And... I know she's your friend but I need you to not talk to her for awhile. Thinking about you with her hurt me so much, and for so long. I really don't even want to see a text from her."

It's not that she's afraid there's anything going on between them. She knows Marian has reached out. He's shared it with her, because they both agreed on no secrets moving forward. And their therapist suggested all passwords be shared, gps should be turned on and used on their phones, bank accounts be shared, everything should be open, so there's no doubt that either of them are entirely committed to one another. And she trusts him again, entirely.

But every time Marian's name is mentioned, there's that little echo of pain, as she relives one of the worst years of her life.

"I won't talk to her," Robin agrees easily, "if you never want me to talk to her again, I won't. Nothing is more important to me than you and Roland."

"Thank you," she sighs. And then she clears her throat. "Does she um, know that I know about you two?"

"I haven't told her, but I'm sure she suspects. I think Mary Margaret is too embarrassed by the whole thing, because she hasn't even asked _me_ about it. All she knows is what you told her — that you saw us kissing."

Regina nods. And she's entirely certain things will blow over with time. But fate decides not to give her time.

.::.

They are so still so wrapped up in each other that they both forget about Phil's birthday. It's Roland who reminds them on a lazy Saturday afternoon, just four days after Robin has agreed not to speak to Marian

"Momma, I'm going to Chuck E. Cheese today!"

"Are you?" Regina questions, "and what makes you think that?"

He looks at her curiously. "That's where Phil's birthday is. Don't you remember?"

She bites her lip and looks at Robin. "Oops."

"I don't suppose you picked him up a present?" Robin asks, "because I certainly didn't."

And that is how they end up at Target, rushing around looking for the perfect gift for an active five year old boy.

Roland scours the toy aisles excitedly. She watches as he narrows presents, looking adorable as he inspects each toy. It becomes obvious that Roland's first time picking out a present for a friend will be a lengthy process, and while they are here, she might as well get some things they need, like body wash, shampoo, that bubble bath that Roland loves…

"Will you watch him for a second?" Regina whispers, as Roland dances down another aisle. "I'm going to see if I can save us a future trip to the store."

"Take your time," Robin smiles, "I've got things handled here."

He kisses her goodbye and tells her he loves her, and it's ridiculous. They can't even separate for a few minutes without those gentle reassurances. Not yet anyway.

.::.

Roland is in the action figure aisle, debating between two Marcel action fingers, when he scowls, brings finger to his chin and says "Oh! I have an idea!"

And then he's off, darting to another aisle fast as lightning.

"Roland, slow down!" He calls, as he rushes to join him at… whatever the hell aisle he ran off to. Regina would kill him, she'd never let their son out of her sight for a second, and how does she manage that? Roland is quick and wiley, he doesn't sit still. Perhaps they need a leash? It would definitely help and _shit—_

 _"_ Robin! Oh my god how are you?" Marian spots him from the electronic aisle. She puts down whatever the hell she was looking at and runs to hug him before he can stammer out a word. God, this is awkward.

"I, um, hello, Marian."

Is she really comfortable being this close to him? She hugs him tightly, and when she breaks the hug… well, her arms are no longer around him, but she hasn't moved back at all. They are practically touching, so close, sharing the same air. He takes a step back awkwardly.

"I was so sad you couldn't go to Mary Margaret's game night! You were always hilarious at scattergories. And honestly there was no one to laugh at David's piss poor attempts, and—"

"MISS MARIAN!" Roland screeches from the third aisle down, carrying some...helicopter thing in his hand that decidedly is _not_ age appropriate. He abandons it now, putting it on a low shelf as he runs into hug her.

"Oh, hey, Ro!" she places a hand on his shoulder to return the hug.

"Roland, that's not really…"

"Oh it's fine," Marian assures, swatting Robin's shoulder playfully as Roland breaks the hug. And then she's rubbing a hand down his arm… it's platonic, she's about to tease him, he knows. But, is she an idiot? He's back with Regina now, they can't do this, Marian has to know that he's told his wife about their night together. Christ, the only thing that would make this _more_ awkward would be—

"Hello, Marian," Regina says from behind him. Her voice is cool and distant, does nothing to hide her disdain.

He turns to look at her, and she's all confidence on the outside, but he knows that look, he can sense the insecurity bubbling under the surface.

She walks right up to Robin and leans against his side, wrapping her arms protectively around his middle. And this may be happening purely for Marian's benefit, but in this moment he doesn't care. He _needs_ to feel her, to have her affection so he can be sure he hasn't fucked all this up. He places his hand on the small of her back. urges her closer and tries to remember to breathe.

He feels her hand sliding up his chest. as the other creeps up his back. It makes him shiver. This hands meet again as she loops them around his neck.

And then she's kissing him. It's not a terribly long kiss, in fact it may last all of two seconds (Roland is there afterall) but it's tongue filled and passionate. And when it's over she leans her head against his chest and looks back at her.

That little display has said so much more than just _hello._

"Um, Regina, hi." Marian shifts in place, putting even more distance between her and Robin. Good.

"Momma, Miss Marian shops at Target just like us!" Roland exclaims.

"I see that," Regina says cooly, narrowing her eyes as she looks at her.

"I was just saying it's a shame that Robin wasn't there for game night at Mary Margaret's," Marian says nervously. "And you too, I really would enjoy seeing the _two of you_ more—"

"What about _meeee?"_ Roland asks, tugging on Marian's jeans. "Don't you want to see more of me?"

Robin winces. Is this how he is going to die?

"I'd love to see more of you too, of course," Marian says, threading her fingers through Roland's dark curls, adding a heartfelt, "more of all of you, _together_."

She's trying, Marian is, he can see as much. But her efforts are failing, miserably so. He can feel the hostility radiating off of Regina.

"Yes well, we've been so _busy."_  Regina says. Her arms go back around Robin's middle as she clings to him in a way she so rarely does. "We haven't had time for games, I'm afraid."

"Right," Marian smiles as if there weren't a mountain of tension on top of all of them. "But when things calm down, I do hope I'll see more of you both. And uh, I'm happy for you guys, you know."

"Are you?" Regina asks shortly. "That's nice. I appreciate that."

This is definitely how he's going to die. He believes Marian flushes red for a moment, but she's bold, the woman is, she won't be phased.

"Well, I should get going." Marian says, flashing that radiant smile again, as if nothing is wrong. "Goodbye Robin."

"Goodbye Miss Marian!" Roland chirps, again running to her for a hug. And this time Marian bends down to his level to accept it, wraps her arms around him.

Robin holds Regina's hand tight, squeezes it, and she squeezes back.

"Goodbye kiddo."

"Remember when we had a pizza movie party and you made peanut butter popcorn?" Roland asks, and oh for fucks sake kid, please stop.

"Mhm," Marian says, her face flushing red, "At your aunt Mary Margaret's house. When your daddy had that meeting and dropped you off."

She's really trying.

"We should do that again! Maybe you can teach Momma to make it."

For fucks sake, is Roland even on his side here?

"That sounds fun," Marian stutters, before rising to her feet.

Marian holds out her hand, it's maybe an invitation for a hug, or a handshake, maybe. But Regina still has her arms around Robin, and he keeps one hand on her back and one in his pocket, determined to avoid any physical contact without Regina's permission. Marian realizes this and shrinks away, withdrawing her hand hastily and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Well, it was nice running into you both. I hope to see you soon? I'm sure Mary Margaret will have another function…" She fidgets just a bit.

"Mm, of course," Regina draws, "We've just preferred to spend a lot of our nights _in._ " And as if the implication weren't obvious, she punctuates the sentence with another tongue filled kiss, one he accepts and returns eagerly. Hell, if she wants him to fuck her right here, he will, he would just need to find a sitter for Roland real quick...

Marian bites her lip, and it seems any doubt she had about whether Regina knows about their New Year's Eve is gone. "Well, you two have lost time to make up for," She tucks her hair behind her ear nervously. "I'm sorry, I should leave you to your family shopping. Have a good rest of the night!"

"Same to you," Robin murmurs.

And then she's gone, and he can breathe again.

.:R&R:..

"Roland, why don't you show me your top three favorite toys for Phillip?" Regina asks, trying to look excited and carefree.

Roland runs ahead of them, gathering toys together. Robin's arm is still around her, bless him for that.

Marian was touching Robin, like it was nothing. She had her hands on him, like she didn't bring in last year by fucking him. And Roland was all cheery and comfortable with her and it just reminds her how much Marian is in their lives now that Robin reconnected with her.

And she's not really sure why this has... affected her the way it has, but god, suddenly Robin looks damn irresistible in that navy blue tee shirt, and his eyes look an even brighter shade of blue.

Robin breaks the silence while Robin is squeaking about toys, leaning in to ask, "You okay? I'm so sorry, I didn't know what to do, I just..."

"It's not your fault," she whispers. "I saw the whole thing. I can't believe she was so casual about all of this. And she touched you." She swallows. "A lot. I don't like her touching you."

"I don't like it either," he assures. "But from Marian's perspective… that was a drunken night over a year ago that we don't talk about. Since then we've been platonic, supportive friends. I don't think she realizes you knew about that night. Not at first, anyway." His arm is still around her, warm and strong.

"Roland is so close to her. I know that's not your fault, I know she's been attached to Mary Margaret lately, but it still hurts."

"I know. I'm so sorry." And he looks and sounds so damn remorseful. He's… very attractive like this. All vulnerable and sweet. What is going on with her? Why is her libido in full force _now_ of all times?

"It's okay, you did everything right," she promises. "I'm alright, really Robin."

"Really?" The concern hasn't left his voice.

"Mhm, I'm fine. I just need…" she gulps turning to check on Roland. He's preoccupied, and has turned his attention to different toys, figuring out the perfect gift for his friend. So she leans in and whispers, "I need you. Badly. I'm so..." she swallows down her anxiety and lets him finish the sentence for her. "I know that's, um, it's not _right_ but—"

"No, no, that is _very_ right," he assures, stroking her cheek. "I need it too." He kisses her, a real kiss, complete with a quick ass grab that has her smiling and fantasizing about the very moment she can get him alone, where there won't be layers of fabric separating his palm from her ass.

"Momma, this!" Roland is holding a box that says _Disc-o-Flyer._ She shakes dirty thoughts out of her mind and reminds herself they are here to buy a birthday gift for a child. And what Roland is holding looks fun, a spinning flying disc that would occupy a child his age for some time.

"Great," she says, clearing her throat. "Let's go then."

"On to a fun filled afternoon of pizza with a cartoon mouse. Could there be anything better?" Robin groans sarcastically.

"And _games,_ Daddy! You forgot about the _games!"_

Robin smirks at Regina, biting his lip. Their son is just… too much. "I _did_ forget about the games. I have a special one I want to play with your momma."

"Which one?" Roland asks excitedly.

"Pop-a-shot," Robin answers nonchalantly. Regina snorts and elbows him. He's referring to basketball game where you have to make as many baskets in a row as possible. Except he's really not talking about that, is he?

"That games for _grown ups_ ," Roland says, rolling his eyes.

"Oh that it is, I agree." Robin raises his eyebrows at Regina, quite proud of himself.

Regina sighs and shakes her head.

.::.

Nothing kills your libido faster than hanging out at Chuck-E-Cheese. Or so you would _think._ Kids are running around screaming, the entire place smells of stale bread, cheese, and the rubber that lines the walls.

But she's still desperate for Robin as they walk Roland to his birthday party.

They watch him from the party booth as he runs off to play in the game area. Robin hugs her from behind, planting a kiss on her neck that makes her shiver. His free hand falls to her hip, gripping it in _that_ way, like he does when he takes her hard from behind. It may look innocent to everyone else. he's just holding her, just hugging her. But it _feels_ like foreplay, has her clit actually _throbbing_ with need, fuck this isn't the time.

"Robin," she warns in a hushed whisper.

"I know, I'm sorry, but I want you so bad right now," he murmurs planting a few light kisses on her neck. Goosebumps erupt in their wake, and she's far too gone for this.

He gives her one last squeeze then releases her from his embrace.

It leaves her feeling cold and so sexually frustrated she could just about scream.

"I hate this place," she mutters. "I just want to get you alone, and…"

"Soon babe," he promises, but she raises her eyebrows skeptically at him. Because they have hours of this damn party, and then take their son home, spend the afternoon with him, make dinner, bathe him, and put him to bed before she can finally get Robin to herself.

He bites his lip and shakes his head. "This is torture."

"It is…" she groans. And she'd never even contemplate fucking in the dirty family restroom of a children's arcade, under normal circumstances. She hates her mind for even going there, but that's exactly how much she needs him right now.

"Go in the restroom and take a picture of yourself in your lingerie," he whispers. "Please?"

She laughs, thinking of times in their youth when she used to do that for him, in the ladies' room of cleaner, more adult establishments, or the bathrooms of friends and family. It was a fun game, "I don't think that's going to help our situation very much," Regina points out, "And I'm not going to get undressed in a dirty bathroom stall of _this_ place."

Robin pouts adorably. "All I can think about is what you might be wearing underneath."

"You'll see tonight," she smiles slyly. "I like keeping you in suspense.

"I like making you scream," he whispers back to her. "God I miss the sound of your voice when I hit that spot inside of you…"

"Stop," she whispers, but she only half means it. "I can't be this sexually excited at a children's birthday party."

"It's a bit late for that on my part," Robin admits with a sad grin. "I'm about 2 minutes away from doing something that might get us escorted out of here."

"No, we're both going to suck it up like a couple of adults," Regina counters.

"Speaking of sucking it up—"

" _No."_  She tries to be firm, but she just sounds desperate.

He pouts adorably as he always does, but then takes a few steps away from her and tells her he is going to try and cool off.

Part of her hopes he won't.

.::.

He knows she would object to this, which is exactly why he's not going to run his plan past her.

He saw the hurt in her eyes when Marian touched him, and they need a moment alone, to work through whatever thoughts are swirling through her mind. And if she needs to feel him physically, to remind herself that they are perfect together and he wants only her, so be it.

Besides, she looks... adorable today. She's in this tight black sweater with equally snug jeans that cup her ass in a way that drives him crazy.

"Andrea," Robin calls out to Phil's mom. "How are you?"

"Great!" Andrea says, can't believe he's another year older."

"It goes by fast," Robin acknowledges, and then, he lowers his voice and whispers a hushed "Listen, is there any chance you could watch Roland for a bit? Regina would kill me if she knew I mentioned it, but she's feeling quite ill, and I would really rather her come home than expose any kids to some sort of virus."

Andrea looks over at Regina in curiousity. She's sitting there, across the room, looking a bit... uncomfortable. It takes Robin every ounce of effort he has not to laugh — poor Regina, being so riled up with no promise of a relief has her looking quite miserable. Andrea's face screws in pity. "Oh the poor dear, she _does_ look very flushed. Take her home, I've got this."

"Thank you," Robin says, with all the sincerity he can muster.

He approaches her slowly. When he catches her eye he licks his lips and makes an obvious glance up and down her body. She knows what that look means, and by the way her eyes darken, it's affecting her as much as it is him.

"No more teasing," Regina warns as he wraps an arm around her shoulders.

"No more teasing," he promises. "I told Andrea you were ill and that I need to drive you home. We have the next hour and thirty-seven minutes to ourselves."

He waits for her to scold him, but instead she just smiles and nods.

"We better make good use of that time, then."

.::.

This is ridiculous. Playing hooky from a child's birthday party, for fucks sake. But Regina is feeling too many other things to bother with guilt, shame or embarrassment right now.

She practically assaults her husband the moment he shuts the car door, grabbing the lapels of his jacket and pulling him into a bruising kiss.

Robin responds eagerly, thank god.

She's the one who needs this, she knows, but he's doing a hell of a job acting like he needs it just as badly. Maybe he does. Maybe he is just as upset over the feeling of Marian's hands on him, maybe…

He pulls back from the rather intense necking session, gasping for breath, looking almost drunk with lust.

Fuck, she needs him.

"Darling," he swallows heavy and loud, eyes so dark, voice all sex-laced, "I don't want to stop… but if we don't get home immediately, we may not have time for… what we need."

Just the sound of his voice all raspy and wanton like that makes her thighs clench, but add the thought of _what we need,_ and well, her clit actually _throbs_ in anticipation. She releases her hold on his jacket, letting her hand smooth slowly over the fabric of his shirt underneath.

Marian did that, and it enrages her, makes her want to erase it in any way she can. She's being petty, it was nothing serious, but…

She rubs up and down his chest again, as if trying to wipe away the trace of her.

"Drive," she manages, her voice far more deep and throaty than she expects. And it must surprise Robin too because he lets out this little choked murmur that sounds so lust-filled it makes her shiver.

As he shifts into drive she cannot help but notice he's already half-hard just from few passionate kisses and the promise of more, and good. Marian probably never did this to him, she hopes (knows).

He drives hurriedly. It's not even that he's too far over the speed limit, it's the way he weaves around cars, or runs yellow lights, that has it feeling like he's driving a bit frantically. At least he's as desperate for her as she is for him.

At that thought she reaches for him, cups him over his jeans and he shudders on contact.

"God, Regina…" he sighs, "you make me so — _fuck!_ " His jaw drops when she rubs over the head of what is now a raging hard-on.

"I can't wait to get your clothes off," she whispers, and then, "Do you know what I want to do to you?"

She watches his Adam's apple bob.

"I think I have a decade of experience to help me answer that." He's trying for cocky, but there's a needy edge to his voice. He's as desperate as she is.

"Don't be so certain," she coos, because, well, has she ever felt like _this_ before? It's not the sad, uncertain type of jealousy she experienced before they sorted things out about how he felt with Marian — she's past all that insecurity.

It's… anger. She's reliving that moment, thinking about Marian being so utterly clueless as she acted... well, perhaps like her same friendly self. Marian, damn her, is one of those feelsy, huggy types. Marian invades everyone's personal space, she's clingy, obnoxious (she's not, not really, before the events of the last year Regina had always _liked_ Marian, but that's, well, she's entitled to re-evaluate, right?).

Marian had touched him, _a lot._ Somewhere beneath the surface Regina knows she meant nothing by it, that Marian often touches _her_ in quite the same way, but all she can think of now is Marian's fingers tracing down his shirt, her eyes taking over his body, that little laugh she gave that had her leaning in…

You know what? Marian still wants him.

And she's not going to get him. Regina knows that Robin doesn't want her. So fine, Marian can want him all she wants. She can sit home and pine over him, wondering what it would be like to be loved by Robin. She can suffer an unrequited lust. That can be her punishment for sleeping with (let's be technical for a moment) a married man.

Regina's going to enjoy every ounce of what Marian can't, right now.

She shouldn't do this, but they're nearly home anyway, so she unzips her jeans, shimmies them down just a bit, and grabs his right hand. He lets her take it, keeping his eyes on the road, but she hears his sharp inhale as she directs his wrist down to the hem of her underwear.

He wiggles them underneath the fabric, hooks his fingers down as they slide down her belly. When he touches where she's wet and wanting, he sighs in _that way_ that makes her thighs clench together, pressing into his palm. She lets out a hum of appreciation, urging him further down.

"Fuck, you're wet," he groans.

She's rocking into his palm shamelessly, searching for more friction, more _something_. He slips through her folds, then presses hard against her clit.

"Right there," she moans.

He presses harder, rubs wet fingers where she needs him, and then draws back and dances those fingers along the sensitive flesh around it. It sends a shiver down her back, has her body pulsing with need, has her getting ever closer to that edge, and—-

The honking of a horn jars them both. It appears that the red light Robin had stopped at has long since turned green. He snaps into action, and starts driving, offering her a sheepish grin.

"We better stop. I don't want to get into an accident."

She smiles and lets him have his hand back, though not before she takes his hand to her lips and licks him clean.

"Regina…" he warns.

She smiles, perfectly satisfied with herself.

She likes when he says her name.

The rest of the short drive is spent with her riling him up whatever way she can.

The moment they get home, the moment the front door shuts, she's on him again, peeling his jacket off and assaulting his mouth with hers.

He still smells like him, and his shirt even smells a bit like her own perfume. That gives her a bit of pride, and she wonders if Marian picked up on the scent herself, some sense that he belonged to Regina.

"Tell me you don't want her," she moans, as she slides a hand down underneath his shirt — the offending garment Marian touched — so she can skim her hand up his bare torso underneath.

Hers.

Robin pulls back, presses a kiss to her brow and waits for her to look at him. His voice goes sappy and soothing when he answers her. "I don't want her, Regina."

But she doesn't want gentle and soothing, not now. So she responds by raising his shirt, taking it up and off his body.

He really is a good-looking man. She doesn't blame Marian for wanting him, not really. He's fit, not overly built, but well-defined, just a perfect-looking man. And he's hers.

She presses a kiss to his chest, swirls her tongue around the muscular flesh, and just… indulges in him. The toned muscles of his abs and chest tense under her touch. Her hands are still wandering up and down his torso while her tongue laves around his pectorals, revelling in his gasp as she scrapes her teeth around one nipple, and then the other.

"God, Regina… fuck, that feels so good…"

"I love your body, you know," Regina says rather frankly, before planting a sucking kiss on his right nipple, taking it in her mouth again and giving a little love bite that makes him gasp.

"Mm, I'm ever grateful for that," Robin sighs. A hand runs through her hair, as he leans against the wall, letting her take control.

"I didn't like her hands on you," Regina says, diving into the base of his neck. She kisses, and sucks, then scrapes her teeth against the sensitive, wet skin.

"I— oh god — I know, darling, she—"

"She still wants you," Regina continues, pulling back far enough that she can look Robin in the eye and look at him seriously. "But she doesn't get to have you."

"She doesn't—ahh!" Robin's thoughts are cut off as Regina cups him through his jeans, stroking a bit.

She knows he doesn't agree with her, but for the purposes of this evening, Marian _does_ want Robin.

She kisses him deeply while her hands work at his pants, undoing buckles and buttons and drawing down zippers. His jeans fall free around his ankles, and she takes him through the hole in his boxers and strokes him.

They've been riled up for a solid hour now, and it's sufficiently worked in making him desperate with need. Perfect. He won't argue with her, not the way he's thrusting into her hand. She can speak her mind without argument.

"I saw how she put her hands on you. I know how that works," Regina whispers over his little choked sounds of pleasure. "Little touches just to feel you, feel your arms, your chest, I—"

She feels herself getting emotional, tries to blink away the threat of tears that have no business coming at this time.

He stills her hand, covering it with his own. His free hand cards through her hair, and he kisses her brow again.

"I love you, and I wouldn't do a thing — not one thing in this world — to hurt you, do you understand? I don't want Marian. I haven't thought of her in that way since... well, since the first time you and I were together. Even that night... my thoughts weren't with her."

"I know," Regina assures, swallowing thickly, "I know that, but she— she had you for a night, and then she groped you in front of me like it was nothing, but it _wasn't_ nothing, Robin."

"I know it wasn't, believe me." He's using that loving tone she loves, and she knows he's worried about her.

"She shouldn't have done that." Regina pauses, breathes in and stares at him. "Marian can't just do that with you and cozy up to Roland like I'm not even here—"

"But you _are_ here," he reminds. The hand that is still around hers directs it to his heart. "You've always been here. She didn't change that."

Something in her snaps, the whisper of insecurity chased away by rage and lust.

Regina looks up at Robin, and nods, lets her hand slide down his chest and grip around at his hips. God he's attractive.

"You didn't like her touching you," Regina tells him decidedly.

"No, god no—"

She cuts him off with a kiss, something searingly hot and passionate that he returns with fervor. Kisses her deeply while his hands wander down _her_ body till he's cupping her ass in her hands.

"She won't ever have you again," she says, staring him down. This is a promise that no matter what, even if Regina dies tomorrow, Robin will never be with Marian that way again.

"Never," he says sincerely, giving her ass a squeeze.

They trade sloppy kisses, work each other back up with swirls of the tongue, lips wandering over areas of exposed skin.

"Christ I want you so bad," Robin moans, as his hands wander over her sweater. Her nipples are so hard he can feel them through thick fabric, thumbs grazing over them in a pattern that makes her ache.

It's a shame when his hands leave her, and her frustrated sigh makes him chuckle, but then he's taking off that sweater, leaving her in a lacy back bra.

"God you're incredible," he groans, leaning back to stare at her.

Their conversation killed the mood a bit, had him not quite as rock solid as when they first got home. But she takes him in his hand now, pleased to know the moment isn't lost forever. He's hard as a rock, and ready for her, and all hers.

He goes for the waist of her jeans, trying to take them off, but she swats his hands away. Not yet.

"I want to see you," he whines, "that's not fair."

It _is_ a bit uneven, Regina in a bra and jeans and Robin practically naked, but well, there will be time for her later. Right now she wants to enjoy him in every way she can, in every way that Marian _can't._

And she doesn't want to fiddle around with taking off shoes and socks and jeans when what she needs is here.

So she presses a kiss to his lips, kisses her way down his neck (he unhooks her bra in the meantime, takes off the offending item, and she lets it go easily, smiling into his skin).

She licks and sucks and bites her way down his chest, pulls his boxer briefs down with his jeans, and kneels in front of him.

When she's situated, she shoots him a devilish look from below.

He's gone all sweet on her, smiling that cute way he does, a hand cupping her cheek.

For a second she thinks he will ruin everything and protest, tell her that he doesn't need her to service him this way, that he wants to please and touch her too. But, well, he seems to clue into what she needs, because he doesn't protest, just rubs a thumb across her cheek and mutters "I love when you do this."

"Do you?" She asks, taking a firm lick of his cock from base to tip, swirling around the tip.

"Mm, you're amazing at it," he sucks in a breath as she licks her way down, from tip to base, down over his balls, giving each a short little suck. It has him gasping, thrusting towards her. He loves this, he really does. She can tell.

A small petty part of her imagines Marian in this room. Watching the way he strokes her cheek, how he looks down at her, he way he reacts to her mouth and tongue—

"Oh my god… keep… can you keep doing that — mm! feels so— _Regina!"_

The way he cries out for her….

Regina sucks on her own finger enough to wet it, and then she's letting it slide underneath his balls, dancing over that sensitive skin that has him writhing under her touch.

Good. This is what she wanted. _Needed._ Him responding to her touch in a way he didn't with Marian, her being able to drive him crazy, to mark her territory with her lips and teeth and tongue while picturing that little bitch watching them, horrified and hurt just _knowing_ that Robin and Regina belong together, and she was never anything of importance to him.

"Regina… please..." Robin twitches, rocks into her touch with pure need. She doesn't usually spend this much time down here without at least stroking his cock, so it's no wonder he's anxious.

She looks up at him with a smirk, watches him swallow heavily as he looks down at her. He's straining, she thinks, tensing to stay still, but when he sees her, his face softens a bit, that gooey little smile spreads over him like warm butter, and the hand at the back of her head scratching at her scalp.

"You're an angel," he whispers.

She takes him in her mouth, tongue running along that vein on his cock as she takes him to the hilt.

"God, Regina, that's… so good…"

That little jolt of electricity jumps through her at the sound of her name, at the thought of Marian hearing this and wincing at how _delicious_ he sounds.

She moves off him slowly, tongue trailing as her lips rise up his shaft, fluttering around the underside of his cock as she does. She gives the tip a harder suck and releases him.

"You're all mine," she purrs.

"Lucky me," he whispers back to her, "that's all I've ever wanted to be."

.::.

She's down on her knees for him, pouty, swollen lips spread into a little coy smile, hair just a bit mussed from their makeout session. God, she looks absolutely provocative now, in the position she's in, the way she's looking at him.

She's laughing at him a bit, then shaking off the tender moment they just had. He's gotten all mushy on her, and he knows that's not what she wants, she wants a good hard fuck. Maybe it's to feel close to him, but he thinks back to the way she had touched and kissed him in front of Marian... and maybe this is marking her territory a bit. And well, if that's what it is, it's unnecessary — he's hers, blow job or not. But it is unbelievably hot, the idea of Regina thinking of him as belonging to her, of protecting what is hers.

Especially the way she's doing it now.

Her lips are wrapped around his cock, hands cupping his balls, a thumb massaging them tenderly in a way that makes them tighten and ache. She's sucking slowly though, drawing this out, and they don't have much time, but he can't find it himself to speak a word about time, not when she's so eagerly swallowing his cock, not with the way that index finger is rubbing behind his balls, pressing and exploring areas usually untouched.

While her palm still cups his balls, her fingers are stroking that sensitive skin behind them, even touching and pressing against that bundle of nerves around his entrance, and _fuck_ that's unexpected, thrilling, has tendons of tingly pleasure spiralling out over his body.

Everything about this time is...more. She's amazing at sucking his cock, truly the best he ever had, but it's rare that all of him is inside her, where he feels him press against the back of her throat with every bob of her mouth, that she touches his ass like this, and it's...indescribable.

"Christ…" Robin sighs, "do that again."

She doesn't disappoint, he feels the strokes of her fingers become more firm, and it causes everything to go into overdrive, has him almost doubling over from the sensation. Instead he ruts down, bends his knees and centers himself. His hand cups the back of her head as she continues to bob up and down on his cock, and hopes he's being gentle (he's resisting the urge to thrust into her, to fuck her mouth hard and dirty — that's her call not his).

She slips his cock right out of her mouth, tongue trailing up his shaft in a warm, lazy lick and then her hand grips around him. She dips down and places her mouth on his balls again, sucking more firmly, and _fuck,_ even scraping her teeth against them the way he likes.

"Oh Regina," he sighs, and she's working him up too close to the point of no return — he's leaning against the wall in an effort to stay standing, "Babe, it's too — _fuck"_ a finger presses into sensitive flesh at the same time as she sucks at his balls, as she gives his cock a steady, slippery stroke with her other hand. " _Mm,_ too much all at once, I'll—"

"Oh no, I have plans for you, you can't come yet," she purrs, giving him that smile.

And coming sounds amazing right now, if he's being honest. It's one of the best blow jobs he's ever had in his life, and he's been thinking about this since they left that bloody Target, so the urge, it's there, absolutely, his cock jumping at just the thought of giving in, letting go.

But even if he hadn't been denied permission… he needs to touch her. He needs to make sure to chase whatever memories Marian dredged up today with orgasms and compliments and whatever else he can fix to give, because as good as this is (and fucking Christ, it is good) he highly doubts sucking his cock will make her feel better.

"Regina," he urges, biting his lip hard, trying to distract himself from the pleasure, holding out as much as he can. She's back to sucking him off now, one hand gripping him as the other continues to fondle and stroke the rest of him, and this isn't helping one bit. "Feels— oh! — too good, need to, need to stop."

She takes pity on him, it seems, because she takes one final, strong suck before she leaves his cock, rises to her feet, and kisses him.

She's so tiny, he thinks, her little frame pressing against his, slender arms wrapping around his neck. She's strong, though, and there's force behind this kiss, a needy and aggressive sort of thing. He responds in kind, lets his hands wander down to her ass and knead shamelessly. And that just reminds him that he's naked and she's still got her pants on, and that won't do at all.

This time when he touches the button of her jeans she makes a little throaty sound of approval, lets him unzip and unbutton, hissing as he wiggles a hand underneath her underwear (he can't wait to strip her to nothing, he has to feel her).

He knew, knew she was worked up, but his fingers are coated in her, all warm and wet, and he was a bit unprepared for how good it feels.

"Fuck, you feel amazing," he murmurs.

"I do," she confirms, before parting with him to shimmy completely out of her jeans. "I need you."

It's been years since he saw her naked for the first time, but he still gets excited, his heart beats fast, breath catches in his throat, his cock jumps — it's as if he's still the sex-crazed youth he once was whenever she's around.

She snakes her arms around his neck and kisses him, hot and passionate, her body flush against his. He slides his own hands down to her ass, gives it a squeeze, and then he's cupping her cheeks and lifting her. She melts into him, lets him lead her, wrapping her legs around him. Her core is pressed against where he is hard for her, the slippery friction between them enough to make him want to press her up against the wall and shift a bit until he slides into where she is soaking and warm.

"Couch," she says from above him, "It's closer." And then she is tilting her neck down to kiss him again.

And well, he didn't much want to carry her up the stairs stark naked, so that works. He takes her to the couch, is intent on laying her down, eating her for a few moments and then fucking the absolute life out of her, but it seems she has other plans.

"Lay down," she directs, urging him underneath her. He smiles, nods, all too happy to let her take the lead.

.::.

It's surprising, but something about getting down on her knees and touching and sucking his cock... well, it's served as incredible foreplay, has her aching for him despite barely being touched herself.

She doesn't mind that at all, she finds herself wanting to indulge in him, to fuck him how she wants to, treating herself to her every desire she has just because she _can._

He tries to wedge a hand between them, as she lays on top of him. He likes doing this to her, slipping fingers inside her in a way that has her coming fast, and it's actually satisfying but…

She doesn't _want_ to keep thinking about Marian, but Marian started all of this, and there's something about taking him inside her now that has her unable to wait. She wants to feel close, joined to him, to not think about the fact that just over a year ago he was inside another woman. And not just any woman, a woman he's been with so many times in the past, a woman Will used to joke about, because she seemed so reserved in many ways, yet he claimed she screamed so loud between the sheets with Robin and —

Well, she's better than Marian ever was and can be much louder, too.

She has moved so she's sitting on him, his cock wedged between her legs. She rocks against him, but she's so damn slippery she's sliding off of him with every hit of the hips. She can hear him gasping below her, feel his nails digging into her hips as he moans _Need to be inside you._

They don't usually do this without a warm up, but she knows she doesn't need anything this time. She is so damn wet that he sinks into her easily, her hips swiveling and rocking into him.

"Jesus," Robin groans, grasping at her hips, "you feel…"

"Better than her," Regina can't help but finish for him. Because Marian needs to know, and she has to picture him saying it with her right there.

He's only started to respond affirmatively, a little hum of agreement, the start of something she doesn't need to hear, before she swallows his words and kisses him.

She can feel how much he agrees with her, the way he kisses her, rough and hungry, the way his hands card through her hair, gentle and slow. And she knows that those actions say so much more than words ever could.

She moves on him then, digging knees into either side of the couch as her hips smack against his. It's not the right angle at first, she has to pull out of the kiss to readjust, and as she sits up full on him to find the sweet spot she finds she quite likes the view.

Robin is staring up at her in that way he does, lovingly, she thinks. It's a look he shared with her often, one she knew well, one he never stopped giving her during their entire year apart. A punch of pride hits her straight in the chest— it's _her_ look, the way his eyebrows raise and his head tilts, his deep blue eyes focusing on her own, soft with an edge of something — lust, perhaps, the way he's biting his tongue seems to confirm that. He never looks at Marian this way, and _good._ He probably never has, and Regina would be lying if she doesn't get a shiver of pure happiness at the thought of Marian being jealous over this. Of Marian watching them fucking, being together intimately in a way she never will be.

"God you're— _mm!"_ He moans, and it seems he can't keep those gentle assurances out of his mind because he adds, "It's so much better, babe, you've no idea."

She's still picturing Marian hearing this, viewing this, and it thrills her.

She quickens the pace. He's meeting each rock of her hips with a thrust of his own, and he's hitting her hard and deep and it's _good,_ hot jolts of pleasure shaking through her.

Marian is watching, those pretty pouty little lips no longer curved in a clueless smile but instead fixed in jaw-dropping horror. It makes everything _more,_ has her fucking Robin harder, faster, bobbing up so high he nearly slips out of her, then slamming down hard.

"God you're gorgeous," Robin praises just above a whisper, "Love it when you are on top, it's so— you're just… mm!"

She sees him bite his lip, out of habit she thinks. They are at home, so used to keeping their lovemaking activities in hushed tones and quiet whimpers. But Roland isn't sleeping upstairs, he's miles away, probably in some giant cat full of plastic balls.

"I want to hear you," she gasps. Her hands are bracing her hard against his chest as she bobs up and down on him, and she worries for a second that placing that type of pressure has hurt him, the way his face screws up in a wince.

But then he's smiling and letting out a big puff of air, giving her a breathy, "So gorgeous… wanted you — _fuck_ — so badly today…"

And well, she has this fantasy, but it would be even better for her if he were in on it as well.

"I wanted to fuck you hard right in front of her," she gasps, and just saying those words out loud has her body tingling with some odd sense of power, feeling just a bit lightheaded with pleasure.

And even moreso when she hears his throaty little groan, the way his eyes shut tight and his nails dig into her hips. She realizes now that a small part of her had been worrying that he would judge her for that, that he would tell her she is being ridiculous or unfair. But he's not saying that at all, instead he's gasping "Oh fuck!" and telling her, "god, that's — _mm_! — hot."

"I want her to know that you're mine," she moans, "so she can see how much better it — _oh!"_ She's close now, really close, losing her ability to speak, gasping for air every other word.

Robin chuckles, pressing into her harder, "She'd — it's — she can't do what you to do me," he rasps between labored breaths, "She'd be — god darling, like that — she'd be stunned senseless to see how we are together."

It's what she needs to hear, has her dipping down, placing hands on either side of his cheek and kissing him hard.

And Marian could watch that too, watch how they kiss like they were meant for one another.

She feels warmth in her belly, now, her body starts to relax into the feeling, as if she's finally given herself permission to truly enjoy this. Robin seems to sense the shift, can tell she's close, because one of his hands leaves her hips and slides between their bodies, fingers searching for her clit. She shivers when calloused fingertips smooth over that sensitive bud, and then she's moving, sitting back up on him, giving him better access. She leans back, bracing her hands on his thighs behind her, arching her body forward, head tilted back so she faces the ceiling.

"Christ," Robin mutters, fingers firmly rubbing over where she needs it, small circles sending waves of hot pleasure through her, "fuck I want you to come just like this so much babe, you look… so beautiful, so fucking sexy, I wish you knew... _mm!_ Please come for me, please…"

His words drive her over the edge, as she imagines the face of his ex lover jealousy hovering over her, wishing she was in her place. Those thoughts, with his words have her careening forward as she gives into the mounting pressure and let's go, comes and comes, feeling herself squeeze around him with every pleasureful pulse. The sensation tickles up her spine, rushes to her head and gives her that weightless, dizzy feeling that she only has during orgasms this intense.

As she's coming down from her high, her head drops forward so she can see the way he's looking at her, and fuck, it heightens those little aftershocks just a bit, has her rocking with just a _bit_ more force.

His eyes are dark, half shut, he's biting his tongue _hard,_ white teeth peeking out from his perfect lips, god he looks… ravenous, rough, sexy and lust-filled.

"So beautiful," he whispers, combing her hair back, scratching at her scalp, down the side of her neck and continuing to stroke down her shoulder and arm. "You look like you came so hard, babe."

"Mm," she says, nodding her head, "I did." She's still moving on top of him, though it's a slower pace, softer movements, as the exertion from riding him so long finally makes itself known.

"I… I want to fuck you hard into this couch, can we— can I be on top? I just…"

He doesn't usually ask for permission with her, he will just take, just place a hand on her shoulder and press it firmly in the direction he wants to move her and she just… knows. She likes that he leads in the bedroom, he's never felt forceful or unfair… just confident. But he is asking for permission now, and it must be because he _knows_ she's loved being the dominant one this time.

But that's all over now, the jealousy, angry feelings replaced with that sappy, lovesick feeling she tends to get with Robin afterwards. So she nods, gives him permission to take control.

" _Oh!"_

She's surprised by how quickly he flips her, with a smooth force she hadn't anticipated.

His face is determined, intense. God, he wants this bad, needs it, it seems, as badly as she had.

He hooks an arm under her knee, pulling it up and positioning himself into the angle she loves, and then he's pounding away at her _hard,_ and _deep_ and _fast_. His face is screwed into that tight expression, and she can tell he's holding back. But he shouldn't, she's still coming down from an amazing orgasm, she won't have another (doesn't need one) so she whispers in his ear, "Let go, come inside me," and nips at his lobe gently, following it with a gentle swirl of her tongue that she knows he loves.

He lets out some sort of throaty, rough sound of relief that sends goosebumps up her back, and then he's fucking her even _harder_ , movements more jerked and rushed now, and god he's sexy the way he is looking at her, the way he's basking in his own pleasure.

"Oh fuck, Regina, my god I'm going to—"

She nods and gasps for him to do so. He spills inside her with a long groan of _Regina_ that makes her feel wanted, needed, and connected to him.

He collapses then, wedging himself so he's laying next to her on the couch instead of on top of her, breathing heavy and hot into her ear.

"I love you, Regina. So much." It sounds like an oath, like a promise of sorts, a shattering sincerity that rings in her ears, reverberates his loyalty to her and her alone.

"Love you too," she breaths. And then, "Thank you."

"For what?" he asks, stroking her arm tenderly.

"For letting me have. this," she says, her voice betraying her, sounding young and shy. "I know…" The anger she felt earlier has burned like a grease fire, it's simmered and sizzled until the heat remains but the flames no longer fly free. "I know that you must think I was being ridiculous." The memory springs to mind, of her making out with her poor husband in front of Marian, and it felt so empowering and lovely in the moment. But now, in the afterglow of amazing sex, it seems so unnecessary and dramatic. "I know you don't think she's after you, and I was just... being a bit handsy in public."

Robin chuckles, puffs of air blowing through her hair. "At Target? God I loved that. It was hot as hell."

She looks at him skeptically, an eyebrow rising towards her hairline, that little hopeful smile daring to creep out. "Really?

He smiles and nods, giving her a quick peck on her cheek as his hand winds through her hair. "I don't blame Marian, and I don't think she has any interest in me. But you were kissing me in front of her, and I could imagine undoing that night a little. It feels good. Truly."

Tears prick at the back of her eyes, because that _is_ a nice thought. Of just... going back in time and showing up on _that_ night, catching him before he made that mistake…

It could have been so easy.

But she reminds herself that everything happens for a reason, and that grueling year apart had to exist for some reason - perhaps the torture was worth it, to remind them of what they have to lose, so they won't doubt that they belong to one another again.

There aren't words to quite express how she feels at this moment. Cherished, accepted, loved, understood... everything sounds like… not enough.

So she snuggles closer to him, and milks their last few minutes alone in his arms.


End file.
